Reach Island, Thanksgiving 2012 The gulls stand watch on the bridge They will not be moved by the likes of us. A damp ghost haunts these passages, She seeps into our bones, Chills us, inhabits our clothes. Your lungs are wet and my heart is slow. The fire resists any attempt to catch, And electric baseboards in a cabin Are something less than effective. We heat the bed through blanketed efforts And the generated warmth gets us through til morning. We exist tonight by grace and by gumption. At least it wasn't raining Until it did rain and hard, too. Nothing between us and the roof To dampen the sound of marble sized raindrops Except the recently warmed blanket Covering our heads and holding us together.
Š 2012 Nell McKay