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Read more poems by Deborah Ager: Deborah Ager Poems at Poetry X.

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The Space Coast

Deborah Ager

		Florida

An Airedale rolling through green frost,
cabbage palms pointing their accusing leaves 
at whom, petulant waves breaking at my feet. 
I ran from them. Nights, yellow lights 
scoured sand. What was ever found 
but women in skirts folded around the men 
they loved that Friday? No one found me. 
And how could that have been, here, where
even botanical names were recorded
and small roads mapped in red?
Night, the sky is black paper pecked with pinholes.
Tortoises push eggs into warm sand.
Was it too late to have come here?
Everything's discovered. Everything's spoken for.
The air smells of salt. My lover's body.
Perhaps it is too late. I want to run 
the beach's length, because it never ends. 
The barren beach. Airedales grow 
fins on their hard heads, drowned surfers 
resurface, and those little girls 
who would not be called back to safety are found.

Added: 24 Feb 2003 | Last Read: 23 Jan 2018 7:01 AM | Viewed: 7180 times

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URL: http://plagiarist.com/poetry/7956/ | Viewed on 23 January 2018.
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