The Slow Lapping of Water

In the province of night
A parliament of whispers falls
Silent under the laughter of leaves
Slow-dancing with the south wind.

When the July moon burns
A hole in the eastern sky
Everything darkens—as a sheet chars
Around a fallen cigarette.

Do you remember now
How the tide moved? how the sand
Dampened to the slow lapping of water?
And everything tasted of salt?
Do you listen to the gulls, watch the cape
Crumple at each touch of the sea?

About John MacKenzie

I'll mumble for ya. Poetry, plus most things quantifiable: science, neuroscience, memory, epistemology, baseball. And so on.
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One Response to The Slow Lapping of Water

  1. Al says:

    No, I don’t. Maybe sometimes. Don’t have to, with poetry like this around. Thanks John Mac


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