After Hurricane Sandy

Last summer

we tiptoed

across these

driftwood panels.

Barefoot, but

carefully alert

we’d watch as

poison ivy

clung onto

both sides of

the boardwalk,

embracing

splintered curves

between each

set of three.

Today, I step

straight up to

the salt water,

and dip my

leaves into the

ocean’s cold

arms.

I look down

and find

remnants of

treasured days

at my feet.

I collect

driftwood

panels, line

them along

a foreign shore,

and walk

the deadly

plank with

clenched toes.

How long before

they too are

swallowed whole?

Reviews

[Trigorin]

Not bad at all. This is very well done and professional. Your breaking up the poem into strict tercets adds a bit of structure to the piece that provides a nice counterpoint to your content. Very solemn, very good work.