"Bubbling up in our own good time-- online."
Groundwaters Publishing, LLC
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Volume 5 Issue 3
Page 9
Page 9
Dad always wore his black pea coat
to Montauk Beach
anchors on buttons swinging
alongside his camera
bouncing off his trampoline belly,
his beaming eye searching for
lost ships and lonely buoys at sea.
Posing lighthouses.
His steps in sand, longer and deeper,
I walked in his prints--
Every part of the beach
investigated,
seaweed and driftwood
mating horseshoe crabs.
My body a question mark--
eyes adapted to the minute shells
compacted with sand
lost in my pockets
rattled in the dryer after mom
washed my clothes,
neck stiff by the end of the day.
I became a master shell seeker.
After 20 years
I found the bigger ones without him.
Out of habit I walk looking down--
Bad posture
gritty pockets.
| Shell Seekers By Janine Margiotta |
