Year
A 300 year old cemetery beside the Atlantic:
An old woman, never married,
speaks among the dunes:
I am the older sister, and ugly.
I watch the sea by the wall,
yearn for each tide's return.
I walk the surf in all weather
and spend myself amidst
the sea wrack screaming
with the tern and the dove.
I count my white hairs by the
sea weighing each for love.
...wear your love, my younger
sister
carry your full breasts
to his hands,
the mouth of the
sea.
Breathe deeply
the salt sea air,
fill them each for his warm
mouth to take...
As for me
I will taste brine
and fill each old breast
with sand.
I will taste brine
and fill them each,
each, with sand.
They fall deeply
into my ribs in
the windy dunes
soon, soon to be
swallowed by
the fish and the crab.
An old woman, never married,
speaks among the dunes:
I am the older sister, and ugly.
I watch the sea by the wall,
yearn for each tide's return.
I walk the surf in all weather
and spend myself amidst
the sea wrack screaming
with the tern and the dove.
I count my white hairs by the
sea weighing each for love.
...wear your love, my younger
sister
carry your full breasts
to his hands,
the mouth of the
sea.
Breathe deeply
the salt sea air,
fill them each for his warm
mouth to take...
As for me
I will taste brine
and fill each old breast
with sand.
I will taste brine
and fill them each,
each, with sand.
They fall deeply
into my ribs in
the windy dunes
soon, soon to be
swallowed by
the fish and the crab.
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