The sea looks as warm as the green dress
forgotten in the forgotten house
where the bed is spread with a quilt the color of sea,
the cold green in grandmother's patchwork
before she was grandmother
in the calm of the future, the calm of the past.
A few clouds bring evening
and the moon pulls at the waves
as they roll against the sand like a body
rolling free, nudging the edge in the afterglow
and propelling memories into thoughts
as they merge with rivulets toward shore.
The green turns gray and murky
around roots and their pale small shoots.
This is an electronic version of a poem published in Psychological Perspectives,
Volume 54,
Issue 3, 2011 p. 360. This poem is available at:
http://www.tandfonline.com/doi/pdf/10.1080/00332925.2011.597269
Psychological Perspectives is available online at: http://www.tandfonline.com/loi/upyp20