Poem with Snowy Plovers

By BRIAN SIMONEAU 

April’s only days
away. The wind strokes
sandstone cliffs, the cove
empty except for
snowy plovers.
A grain of sand
brings tears. An ocean
is beautiful
in its cruelty—last
week, currents swept
someone out to sea—
so I’m watching
for rogue waves, don’t
notice the puddle
that soaks my shoe.
I’m able to laugh
at almost all of it.
Squinting against
the sun as it breaks
through, I watch wind-
whipped waves, a host
of birds taking flight.

Poem with Snowy Plovers

Related Posts

Pine tree at sunset

July on South St. (AEAE)

NICK MAIONE
I open the doors and windows and shut off the lights./ For a while I play tunes on the fiddle / shirtless in my dark house. I love doing this. / For the first time all day I am not at home. / For the first time since the last time / my body is the same size as my flesh.

On Halloween

VASYL LOZYNSKY
I feel greedy, I have a frog in my throat because of this / expensive beer. I start to ask around, like a detective, / and immediately get some info / from the writer sitting at our table nearby, / whom I got to know just now. / The house of Ashbery has likely mahogany doors...

Young girl by a window looking out at a city

Her Borders Become Her

FÁTIMA POLICARPO
I opened my eyes to darkness and knew I was not alone. She stood in the far corner by the closet, waiting for something. The air between us, a conduit—even from across the room, I felt her body tingling my skin. You don’t always have to see a thing to know it exists.