PoetryAloud
Eusebeia Philos Reads Leslie Philibert
Let me be sighted in the sea wash,
late waves, back water that curls as foam under the Moon, my face pulled to the tide, my eyes brothers in salt, no startlight, no endlight. Gulls sing at the first slight wind that changes direction in my ears. Let me drink all this; ebb and flood, wind and sea, sea and wind, flood and ebb. |
|