Souvenir

                                                                        This coast drifts.

Smooth its inches

and shifts; it sails, sometimes

pinched or ripped –

then clay-stuck, sodden.

There’s no way it fits

in a shell, but this little shell

settles into it:

                                                an instant,

                                        a crimp in space and time;

                                                speckled kiss.  Fading wave.

 

 

 

 

Go to Dr Bonny Cassidy's profile to read more poems