Talking to Seals

Today  I realized how much I miss writing poetry. And so I wrote a poem!

 

In Portsmouth, New Hampshire

the seals in the harbor spoke to me

of time passing, of urgency

and history. I watched them

like a mother watching her

kids play. They brought me

small treasures of wondering:

 

that the most wild of all succulent women

was from New England-

Emily Dickinson,

We can dwell in Possibility

With a capital P,

If you imagine ordering a cup of Joy

at a coffee shop you can sit

at a table five minutes later

with a palm-burning mug in hand.

 

When you take a sip,

you can feel that big ocean love

coming in through the light

in the front window

and dream of seals communicating

with a woman standing at the end of the dock.

They bark to her of murky winter skies,

salt on their lips, and the myth

of gods teaching elephants to break lose

from leashes made of jungle reeds.

 

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2 thoughts on “Talking to Seals

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