Friday, August 29, 2014

Septima

This is just a fanciful poem about how a large, potentially deadly shark was essentially hanging out at the beach for a few weeks.  No one would have noticed if she hadn't been tagged with a GPS pinger.



“Septima”

Death was swimming in the sound
Cruising in the bay
And playing in the surf.
You paid no notice.

She did not hide
She announced herself
Passively
several times.
You did not hear.

She slid past your cook out,
Skimmed past the surfers,
And surveyed a couple or two.
You did not panic.

Death was all around you

But you lived your life in bliss

No comments:

Post a Comment