Shell Seekers
Also must search the embankments,
the shores for your crypt, all those emblems –
beloved, beloved – our fingertips leave…
Conch, scallop, beach glass, shark’s tooth
wedded by webs of pebble breath, dew,
the lichen, the iridescence, & that quartz
slate of truth as mottled, as marked
by fine cracks of ivy…
We walk away, palms curving over
unending to the length & breadth
of every next sigh, scent, sight
on the horizon that yet carries you.
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Also by Stephen Mead
- Deep Water1 MIN
- Waking the Body1 MIN
Other voices · In conversation
- Lost Mate1 MIN
- To the other poet1 MIN
- mistakes1 MIN