Erin

This is not a summer sky. Distant clouds of steel & pale. Creeping pools where I've once swum & God willing will swim again Are fed by towering violent surf The color of dun nothing. Waves collapse under their own weight like demolition & bring me sheets of lurid foam Which creeps in moment by moment Until there is no beach left. Airplanes skate pigeontoed overhead As gulls glide in stationary motion & all around me people come silently, then go.