What the Sea Brings

By KELWYN SOLE

 

Don’t trust any harbour. Already
those reflections that match each boat
turn restless, yearn to fracture:

each wave beyond the quay dishevels.

I who have no instinct for bad weather
—scudding wind, nor gale—turn
to watch a late evening ditching sun

that gasps lunges out to drown

in tides of creels lost, and plastic bottles.
You contrive strong, dark fingers
through your hair. Time to head home:

beside you there’s me and a nervous sea

bereft of the small white globes of gulls

now trying to outrun dark. A door shuts.
We’ll pass our time in tepid rooms
that dissemble light: making dinner

then making love till we lie

in tandem, fork to spoon. Who
cannot guess which one of us
will take their sleepless turn tonight
to part the curtains, start, to see

unblinking stars begin to swarm
suddenly implacable as bees
above the black void that was sea.

 

 

Kelwyn Sole is professor of English literature at the University of Cape Town and guest-editor for Issue 04. 

Click here to purchase Issue 04

From the beginning, The Common has brought you transportive writing and exciting new voices. We are committed to supporting writers and maintaining free, unrestricted access to our website, but we can’t do it without you. Become an integral part of our global community of readers and writers by donating today. No amount is too small. Thank you!

What the Sea Brings

Related Posts

Cloudy sunset over field.

Florida Poems

EDWARD SAMBRANO III
I will die in Portland on an overcast day, / The Willamette River mirroring clouds’ / Bleak forecast and strangers not forgetting— / Not this time—designer raincoats in their closets. / They will leave for work barely in time / To catch their railcars. It will happen / On a day like today.

Two Poems by Hendri Yulius Wijaya

HENDRI YULIUS WIJAYA
time and again his math teacher grounded him in the courtyard to lower / the level of his sissyness. the head sister chanted his name in prayer to thwart // him from playing too frequently with girl classmates. long before he’s enamored with the word / feminist