Tuesday, May 2, 2017

White Sands by Arthur Sze

White Sands
—walking along a ridge of white sand—
                                       it’s cooler below the surface—
we stop and, gazing at an expanse
              of dunes to the west,
                      watch a yellow yolk of sun drop to the         
an hour earlier, we rolled down a dune,
                                         white sand flecked your eyelids
                                             and hair—
a claret cup cactus blooms,
                         and soaptree yuccas
                                                     move as a dune moves—
so many years later, on a coast, waves rolling to shore,
                             wave after wave,
I see how our lives have unfolded,
                           a sheen of
                                   wave after whitening wave—
and we are stepping barefoot,
              rolling down a dune, white flecks on our lips,
on our eyelids: we are lying in a warm dune
                                            as a full moon 
                                                                     lifts against an
                                                                           ocean of sky— 


No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.