By Toklas blee@direct.ca
Date: 10 January 2001
Singing to Siwash
You left me by inches, like wind and sea
cutting Rock from cliff to banks below;
rains culled in lacunal stone, Siwash worn down
in centimeters, purl in mouths of nooks.
A seagull perches there, cleaning its feathers;
looks, and flies suddenly into the spray.
Seaweed clusters at the base in little tangled skirts;
sand dashes sleeves, hem, slips of ankle.
How consumately the waves scatter
breaking on cooling air, on towering sides.
Eroding in atoms of detail, a thief of tide
steals empty garments from the shore.
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