The first day at the beachI scoured the sand, pacing for mileshungry to find something in which to carry away my memorieslike a scrap of paperI could origami and tuck into the spiraling staircase of a conch shellor a moon snail’s once loved homeas though the sea owed me anything. On my second day at …
October stings my nostrils:the scent of harvest, skunk,and smoldering leaves heavy with dust and recent twilight.Gravel crunches patiently underfoot,monologuing in earthy tones on sediment and sand.Brittle air pinches my cheeksand the gentle roundness of your ears until they blush from the attention,red as summer, cold as frost.
