July 14, Bluewater
It’s a heinous wrong to watch wildflowers
And the surf dozing what’s left of the beach
In the yard of a cottage I did not build
By hand with sons I had to fight to have
A relationship with on taken land
I say nothing on while complaining
About overkill and depleted beach
Emptied of sand and occupied by rocks
And each rock is an unimaginable failure
I don’t want to say like ghosts but sure
Like ghosts the kind wished back to life
Then disappointedly wished back dead
Because the beach is easier to be on
When we believe rocks cannot claim
And the wildflowers are canary yellow
Turnip violet and bone china white
Because they hate us that much
the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan
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