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Growing Moon in a Sea-Starred Grave

After the Flooded Grave, Photograph by Jeff Wall

Six feet under the mud
where leaves send sparks
into flickering flames,
are the rubied,
salt-watered stars
that first drew me
in awe.
But the menacing hose,
the distant crows
and the headstone
for a “Lee”
that no one knows
were the first hints
of my guilt.
For I was above the grave
reflecting smiles
off the pool of colour
and wanting to touch
the life that lay atop
the death, until a little boy
beat me to it.
The dimensional difference,
from 3 to 2, didn’t stop
the child as he held his
hand up to the deepened
grave - he saw the
potential of the textures
in its pool.
He touched, he held, that
sea-star, flat-palmed,
smudging the glossy cover
and asking his mother,
”Are the fishes dead there?”
She asked him what
he believed.
He beamed out his
”I don’t think so!”
and touched, dry-fingered,
the sea creatures
one more time, just
to make sure.
It was his sigh-
the sigh of happiness
for his rubied star-
that made me see
my smile, my little
reflecting crescent,
a little bit fuller
where that bright night
was dug.

21 Jun 07

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(18 more poems by this author)

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very very nice. don't have any comments other than that. will come back later, but i doubt i'll find anything then either. very nice.

yeah i'm running low on adjectives. lol
 — gem_grrrl

 — Lexie