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A Night On the Beach
A mottled crab scuppers its sea legs
in fluorescent foam.
Blue pods rattle on green tides.
Bladder wrack, Mermaid’s Hair
washing tangled ankles.
There are voices in my open mouth,
they roll over a briny tongue,
intoning from the breath
of a luminous spray.
Where the sky hangs low,
gannet beaks gape
trawl the unseen upon a tossing surf.
Mother, father, stranger,
we are all here speaking
through a whirlpool’s gullet
we sink and surface, rise and fall
dished up on a roiling wash
never to find nor land.
Copyright ©
Eric Ashford
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