Karen Kunc   © 2011 All Rights Reserved


The moon’s got its juju, compels
sea water to rise. Absurdly it swells,
roars in like a god until it hits
land and collapses, tosses its glitter.

No chance for fluid bodies like ours—
we’re just so much drift. Too exposed,
even daylight’s slight sickle-moon
can tow me to you, fourteen hours

from this beach where I’m close
to the edge. A quiet afternoon,
you think you’re safe. But you dream
ocean as I write ocean. You see

dazzle, the onrush, hear breakage. You
understand, we could be ruined.


Beverly Burch
Copyright © 2011  

Beverly Burch’s recent work appears in New England Review, Poetry Northwest, Willow Springs, Southern Poetry Review, and Southern Humanities Review. Her first book, Sweet to Burn, won the Gival Poetry Prize and a Lambda Literary Award. She is a psychotherapist in Berkeley, CA.

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