The Beach – A poem

The Beach (after Anne Sexton’s Starry, Starry Night)

 

An Ocean forged from stars

knows not of any lawful impediment

that denies The Beach of solace.

The Beach is dying. Crashing waves smother praying sand.

Oh tiny, tiny creatures, this is why

I want to help.

 

Tides come. A noble lighthouse protects

against treacherous trolls of black and white

who tarnish, taunt and treason.

The ignorant night swallows the sea.

Oh tiny, tiny creatures, this is why

I want to help:

 

the children of the beach fight against innocent eyes,

innocent enough to kill. Belongings of the devil.

Spitting, clawing and biting, it becomes,

it hurts,

it dies.

 

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