Peninsula

post_header_curl_SET

I stared at the hip of Iberia over the
hunched back of a northern moving fog
blown from the dark lips of Gibraltar
towards a terra-cotta mirage

Fog pushed down by the thumb of God
rested over the mosaic of a slick seashore
where star shaped creatures rested,
crying their ages to counterparts above
pulling them towards black expanse by
trailing fiery tails, scorching the surface skin
of atmosphere

The ebbing tidal blanket had been
pulled back by giant sea turtles
swimming westward to bed
offspring under the cold Atlantic
exposing a gaping oceanic mouth,
the wet tongued bed of a sandy
bottomed ocean kissing the wrists of
yellow curled anemones, licking the
salty navels of manta rays

I regarded the soft hip of the continent eradiated
by the passing gaze of a lighthouse poised on my
right shoulder above a town at the lip of the
estuary spewing foamy wash to the expanse

I regarded this, the nightly accrual of miracle matter
from interior lands where prayers are irrigated,
scooped and put to sleep in the passing stream
watering green pastures
whispering to cattle in the sierras

The insatiable cycle dripping towards
the peninsular cup of creation

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *