The Ocean
While the wind flings sand,
and the seagrass whispers
across the foam’s mottled signatures…
I imagine the ocean, a broad, full expanse,
dark grey and cold as a remote father,
far waves and fathoms of water,
cold birds acquainted with winter,
and warm seals in their blubber,
emerging as if their heads were hatracks
for wattle and weed.
I imagine a deep broth of communing
eyestalks and feather dusters,
granite-hued denizens in their closets,
interned worm, and horny fish with scaley clusters;
whipping horny tails,
where the bottom sand blows
– in the surge and ebb –
and blusters.
Where lobsters claw like aged boxers
in the bottom’s dappled light
…a little to the left,
a little to the right.
The fish move ever so slight, like speckled clouds.
And the crabs skitter sideways.
by Carl Nelson
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