Friday Original Poem

Oswald West Beach

Where I lost it all

to a sea anemone, three starfish,

two orange, one purple,

to the surfer roasting

abalone over open flames.

Sent it all

back into the sea that

salt-stained my pant cuffs,

washed me.

Collected caves,

indents in the earth

where I fit.

Vowed to the lines of petrified logs –

benches in waiting –

where I sat spreading waves

on the day’s toast.

© 2013 Regina Gort all rights reserved