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The Sea (excerpt)

My mother floats across the floor of our kitchen and kisses me
on the forehead

My second memory

second

sea

Smoking a cigarette

She’s alive

but she’s acting

like she’s

dead

That watery light people get sometimes

when they’re first arriving

and when

they’re

leaving for good

The cigarette ash falling

into the sink

it

sounds like the sea

The foghorns

are spelling someone’s

name

Not your name

Maybe they used to

but not any-

more

It serves us right to be alive

We move out across the water in our stupid bodies and blow out the
breakers one by one

Delivered

from our names

into some secret

home

from FliesFind it in the library

Copyright © 2011 Michael Dickman
Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, Inc.
on behalf of Copper Canyon Press.

Published in Michael Dickman Poems

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