Sand and Bone

Image courtesy of Shutterstock.

                (Todd’s Point, Reid State Park, Maine)

I came shivering, knowing how lines of the tide
will use seaweed, and sea-drift, and sea-wrack (and bone)
to etch with. I wait to be marked on the sand
(a thick sagging rockweed, its bulbed grace undone),
moved each way like feathers, dragged slow as a hand,
or just whitened — past breath. I’ll be moved till I’m gone
to where no earth is ready to hold me inside—
(as I follow gull-shadows back over the land).
(I am hiding myself where there’s no room to hide.
Now I whiten my hair in the wind of no dawn!
Now the seagulls are whitening too! Now they mourn
In our turning and turning!

Annie Finch is an author and poet. Her most recent book of poems is Spells: New and Selected Poems (Wesleyan University Press). She is editing the anthology Choice Words: Writers on Abortion.