“A CARD FROM THE OREGON COAST”
A CARD FROM THE OREGON COAST
I’ve passed along your love to the Pacific.
I like it, too; it’s quiet—merely roars—
a radiant, blest relief from the terrific
crash of breakers on one’s mental shores.
Shells are now scarce, but the young’un found an agate,
red jasper, and some jade-like stones, which line
Oblivion’s sandy pocket....Toured a frigate
they’ve moored in so-called history....Weather’s fine.
You said when last you saw this sea you bawled
my name aloud to stone-deaf waves. I did
the same with yours, more quietly, and recalled
that you once combed these shores. Your presence hid
in blue-lined mussel shells, their nacreous treasure
stuck fast to rough black rocks like distant pleasure.
Lynn D. Gilbert's poems, twice nominated for Pushcart Prizes, have appeared in such journals as After Happy Hour Review, Blue Unicorn, carte blanche, The MacGuffin, Ponder Review, Sheepshead Review, and Southwestern American Literature. Her poetry volume has been a finalist in the Gerald Cable and Off the Grid Press book contests. A founding editor of Borderlands: Texas Poetry Review, she lives in an Austin suburb and reviews poetry submissions for Third Wednesday journal.
