THE PIER

Susan Smith Nash

 

 

A tryst on the boards, or simply blank looks;

water slipping under the bridge –

 

Don’t think time is like that, too.

 

Belief still described as a gift, or a talent.

It’s not a skill I practice under duress.

 

And yet, you see I am awakening – spirit like hooves

clattering across a thousand soundtracks, boundless like all unreality.

 

Free associations:  danger and beauty.

 

Some are wired away from the place they need to be,

Others wired for solitude, although it’s not what they want.

 

And, for those beachcombers of dreams –

Well, we walk together on water’s edge,

 

Swirling out on crests of history

While the tide slips in, out, underneath…