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To Karen Lodge's previous pieceTides Atop a buoy the Sea vulture comes into view, full screen. The village idiot mumbles. Cruise ships leave Manhattan rounding the point past Sandy Hook, abandoning the burden of poetry that will not come. Sufficient sustenance to satisfy her day, laying still on wooden palette, down and white shroud. Oh, the nights are long Surrounded by shattered glass, not able to spare the sorrow, Leaving the sunset to imagination Shhhhhhhhh Lay here in my arms, Smell the ocean, listen to the waves. So very wide awake in this 3 am sweltering summer day This time is magic. Share it with me. A little rain, your sensitivity bringing me rest The sirens, the train whistle and the rain. The rain The rain Passive passion, Fearful expression. How empty the day is without you Your rib may pierce my lungs and heart, as when love began But what I weave and how I woe are not for you to measure
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