INNER HARBOR — blank verse

14 Mar

Inner Harbor

The harbor, at tide’s turning, hesitates.
The slapping of the waves around the pier
degenerates into a gurgling swirl.
Now, as the estuary’s flow reverses,
the circling gulls come swooping in and drop
to settle noisily on rolling swells.
A splash disturbs the rhythm of the night.
Below a piling heaped with her discarded
dress, high heels, and purse, a woman floats
upon the harbor’s face, a cold white flash
amongst reflected city lights and stars.
In time, the tide recedes. Its lunar ebb
begins to drain the darkened basin of
the inner harbor, pulling down the ghost
white shadow of the limp and lonely corpse
without a sound, to silent, inky depths.
The tide rolls out. The seagulls soar again.
In Baltimore, a rowhouse quietly
awaits the footsteps of its occupant,
the homely waking sounds of single life.
And, on the pier, police, their cruiser lights
all flashing red and blue, intently search
for clues, ignoring witnesses aloft.
The screaming seagulls cry her requiem.


Gunpowder River Poetry (Spring & Summer 2003). The Brink at Logan Pond. ISBN: 1-4116-3215-X. (Lulu Press, May 2005). Poets Gone Wild (An Internet Anthology) ISBN: 1-4116-4359-3. (Lulu Press, August 2005). Magnapoets blog — June 2006.

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Posted by on March 14, 2016 in Blank Verse, Formal Verse


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