Saturday Morning, Low Tide

Gerry LaFemina
| poetry


Let’s say Heraclitus is right,

we can’t swim the same surf twice—

the way waves soak into the sand,

the patterns left as darker stains that fade

when the tide recedes, never repeat

though if they did, who would notice?

So much like grief, the crashing

& receding, the roar & hush,

cackle of egrets & the terns hungry

for some remnants. You can post

a hurricane flag into the sand

& someone will still come to watch.

Wind-snapped it doesn’t sag.

Tomorrow & tomorrow & tomorrow

desolation & reconstruction. In the distance

something dark bobs along the surface—

detritus or dolphin or else something

inconceivable, nameless, a wobbling

shadow beyond the incoming breakers.

Gerry LaFemina‘s latest books are The Story of Ash (2018, Anhinga Press) and the textbook Composing Poetry: A Guide to Writing Poems and Thinking Lyrically. A noted poet, critic, essayist, fiction writer, and musician, he teaches at Frostburg State University and serves as a writing mentor in the Carlow University MFA program.

Wild Life