Sunset on the Inter Coastal
I’m turning over backwards,
The earth a tilt away
From slipping the sun
Below the horizon.
As day is done
The earth is rolling back
Behind me,
I’m flipping like a tumbler
Sliding backward
Facing west
As the earth rotates
Towards night.
Sitting, in a backward facing chair,
I somersault in space
Watching the line of trees across the sound
Creep ever so much higher
As it takes the sun.
Variegated yellow, ombre orange along the bottom
Casting hints of tints of pink
Halfway across the water.
The blue and purples mix and play
Lapping on the oyster rocks,
Reaching tranquil,
Into the hue of twilight.
Playing out in shades of cunning,
He said I shared the color of his mother’s eyes,
And would I like to see?
A photo perhaps
From under his bed,
A walk to the shelf
For an album of dust?
Perhaps.
No, the eye,
that was made for,
And worn by, the her
That bore him.
The Italian side,
of brown eyes,
Gone to hazel with age.
The one lost in an accident,
Found in her son’s closet
Decades and eons later,
Following her demise.
I declined
Placard Poem
One poem for, insert why, written
for one man, optional name named,
and why we were at, insert place perhaps,
in a time, season picked
and mood, emotion decided here,
I want it forever, why it won't happen.