Memento Mori

The beating of the heart, a clock,

Breathe in, breathe out,

Each day a memento mori,

The calendar page, having done its due,

Fluttering, leaf-like, to rot in the

Dark and fertile soil where we keep

The remnants of your youth,

Smelling of loam and sea foam,

Like your grandmother’s old room,

Or like the dust after a rainstorm,

Like the sea at high tide,

Or like the dampness of decay

That the cherry blossoms undergo,

When they fall, pink and perfect,

To their untimely demise.


Ode to Poseidon

The detritus of the sea,

A clam that lost his shell,

Sand hailing back

To ancient rock,

Little shards of seaglass

Worn smooth by the tide,

The taste of salt and brine,

And that state of eternity

That presides there,

In Poseidon’s realm

Where the

Black and fawn and mother of pearl

Particles of sand,

Suspended in the eternal deep,

Rise, fall, and rise once more-

A microcosm of

The inexplicable dance of the ocean,

Frozen in a moment of utter abandon.