The Space Coast Poem by Deborah Ager

The Space Coast

Rating: 3.2


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.
And how could that have been, here, where
even botanical names were recorded
and small roads mapped in red?
Night, the sky is black paper pecked with pinholes.
Tortoises push eggs into warm sand.
Was it too late to have come here?
Everything's discovered. Everything's spoken for.
The air smells of salt. My lover's body.
Perhaps it is too late. I want to run
the beach's length, because it never ends.
The barren beach. Airedales grow
fins on their hard heads, drowned surfers
resurface, and those little girls
who would not be called back to safety are found.

Ratnakar Mandlik 23 June 2016

Fantastic flight of imagery and amazing style of expression has brought in a rare confluence of nature's manifestations and emotions in this poem. Thanks for sharing it.

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Edward Kofi Louis 21 August 2015

No one found me! But, nature watched over me. Nice work.

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Ramesh T A 21 August 2015

When all have some one to take care, if one soul is alone, what will happen is nicely expressed in this poem!

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