“Coastline Forecast: February” by Claudia McGhee
We frozen women hear the dogged beat
of thickened waves through rotten, tunneled snow.
We read on shale the grey veneer of sleet,
in the blackened scrawl of seaweed, we know.
The thickened waves through rotten, tunneled snow
hammer our shores with mandatory pain.
In the blackened scrawl of seaweed, we know
the sharp edge. The slap of thunder and rain
hammer our shores with mandatory pain,
besiege us in sea surge, blind us in hail.
The sharp edge, the slap of thunder and rain
silence only voices, in all else, fail.
Besiege us in sea surge, blind us with hail,
assail us, veil us with curtains of sand,
silence only voices, in all else, fail.
As our hearts breathe salt at our blood’s demand,
we warm in the needled beam of longing.
We read on shale the grey veneer of sleet,
remember mud, dreams, and green belonging,
we frozen women hear the dogged beat.
____________________
Share your response to this work, in any form, here
KODAK Digital Still Camera
Claudia McGhee Artist Statement: Claudia McGhee has been a poet-in-residence, freelance editor, information architect, software technical writer, journalist, writing outreach project coordinator, and eBook producer. Her poems have appeared in Aileron, Asylum Annual, Connecticut River Review, Impetus, Fresh Ink, Lunch, Nimham Times Magazine, Slipstream, White Plains H.O.G. News, White Pond Reflections, Zephyr, and Putnam Poets anthologies. Her chapbook Paperlight is forthcoming this summer from Finishing Line Press, Georgetown, KY.
