For Coretta King

We'd always swum out too far
to hear what we was shouting...

When we saw you standing
on the sand without him;

when we saw you raise and cup
your hands around your mouth;

when we heard your first cries
like pebbles rattling in our veins,

our legs and arms stopped.

Already fish have found us;
poke our pale and bloated bellies
as if we were crusts of bread.







Copyright (c) 2000 by Douglas Eichhorn        << index >>