Deborah Ager Poems
|2.||Night: San Francisco||1/1/2004|
|4.||Santa Fe In Winter||1/1/2004|
|6.||The Space Coast||1/1/2004|
|7.||Night In Iowa||1/1/2004|
|9.||The Tortoise In Keystone Heights||1/1/2004|
The Space Coast
An Airedale rolling through green frost,
cabbage palms pointing their accusing leaves
at whom, petulant waves breaking at my feet.
I ran from them. Nights, yellow lights
scoured sand. What was ever found
but women in skirts folded around the men
they loved that Friday? No one found me.