Rehoboth Beach

We bodies aspire, we in the day.
My open mouth: your tongue, a brittle moth
climbing the window—rightly knew we both.
It has an end; it quivers and will not stay.
We have looked seaward, looked away
to similar horizons, the sun's froth
far and ubiquitous, some little oath
meandering off. We bodies we blood we clay.

Elegant rib of Delaware sand and weed,
where is your speech? I have not come to hear you
out from August serenity. When we came,
she walked into you for a greater need
than body we understood. Than I am near to.
As if some rock already clenched her name.

Copyright © 2005 Matthew Ladd All rights reserved
from West Branch
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission