Point Rauma

Here amidst

the blue green swelling
of summer grapes

or of a rising sea –
here the faint line
in the margin

makes sense, more
sense than the silence
in the other room.

A seagull is pinned to an even greyer
sky making the difference
between us more difficult

to make out. She comes
home with a battered suit
case packed with stolen

constellations from above
the Sargasso Sea. He is not
impressed by her willingness

to exaggerate and worries
about all the lost migrations
and all the love letters

turned into innocent paper
boats that the tide now
returns; grown into such

beautiful shipwrecks.


One Comment

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