At the Throat of the Bay

At the Throat of the Bay

This inlet
a mouth
swallowing sea
a canal bearing tides

Gusts
thunder across the water
slam the house

In the thicket
branches tap my shoulder
insistently
reeds sting my face
my teeth will crack
I try to see the wind
the fury and fierceness of something

a willow creaks
as if to topple over before me
a great tearing of earth and roots
but still I do not see the wind

I see Orion stalwart
and shredded bits of the storm
fleeing in front of itself
the slap slap of the waves in the bay
the steady roar of the ocean far away
I understand the physics of things
but not the thing itself

If I stay here long enough
will I grow down on my breast
cloak myself in wings
scatter my teeth in the mud
gather and go up into air

To a point of view
a blue orb
a mantel of infinite constellation

PBSweeney

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