Light over water
turned it brown,
particulate with sand

gulls fished in the light rectangle
bobbing heads, down and then back up

I had thinking about Cassandra

her dream-sorrow

done with feeding
the gulls slept/rocked on the water

distaff of the waves–

or what made us distaff–

Amy Newlove Schroeder lives in Los Angeles and teaches from USC. This poem is from The Sleep Hotel (Oberlin College Press, 2006).
*Photo courtesy of The Pug Father.
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