From An Unvisited Shore

The shooting parts like a sea

into another and yet another. Its recent tides

have  swept  through  school, theatre,  mall

and naval yard. Further on – more frequency.

 

In a season when color  sprawls

over  rock wall with grapes and goldenrod, when leaves

splatter road and field, there are bullets,  an albino moth

hovering in the mouth of a street lamp.

 

In a season when birds migrate south,

there are hints scattering in a skein

of theories –but no one can decipher

the real truth. I just remember

how you lay with arms around me

 

far from the scene, safe in sleep. The sprinklers

turned on, wetting lawn and lizard

catching light from the east

my tears did not catch -- or  have to hold

in  mourning for someone I love.

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The title is taken from and an allusion to the following lines in Emily

Dickinsen's poem, "As If The Sea Should Part ", 

Unvisited of Shores—
Themselves the Verge of Seas to be—
Eternity—is Those—