Someone else’s sand

Maxine Flasher-Duzgunes

We stand

     on the edges

          of cliffs



     in perfect



The Snowy Plover


          for its next



     in foot-printed paths

          filled by someone’s


Bottled thoughts.


When all we are

     is ourselves

          we can



     the foreigner’s

          sea glass


With our own


          then curve


Our backs

     for centuries

          by the lighthouse


Waiting for

     the narrow hum

          of a reply.


Our sand

     is most





(run over by grained

     memory and the salty

          first drafts of love)



     miles of

          someone else’s sand,


But we cannot


          whether the cyclical washing away


In the caverns of our


          will ever drown


The passenger

     and prevent him

          from arranging lyrics to our watery hearts,


As if his own

     sand-castle brain

          was swept


By our poetry.


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