Kylan Rice
A Political Poem If you're looking for it, the sea's not here. The day fills with bridges, while night over-flowers, bores out a bay for itself. Inside the wave white is a dark salt, so what. I walk the seashore looking for trouble, surly & counting the other bad-asses at the clambake. The corpse found in the surf is a manual on roses. We look again to the tankers. We look to the mothers with their shirts off. We look to the sea, but it's filled with milk & honey. |