by Todd Jackson
Under dark She rolls the waves.
She is phosphorus curled inside the wave
That has caught light off the pier’s lights that shine downshore.
The waves’ skin grey-black from the sea-floor’s soot, and above,
Grey-black from the clouded Night. The Night-clouds that mass and ripple, Hers,
Not less than the phosphorus glowing, curled inside the grey-black waves.