I paddled where currents converged              

from the sides of a narrow island.


The tide, coursing hard, rejoined

itself in a churn south of the spit


formed, I guessed, by centuries

of just such motion. Hordes of froth


collided. Schools of bright herring boiled

the surface—a mob of gulls bobbed,


hovered, dove, and stuffed their gullets

on those silvery swarms. The sizzle


drew in a few gleaming salmonid nomads

breaching ecstatic…. I was lost


in the thrall. There’d be no paddling

back to the beach till the slack,


so I drifted and turned like a twig

of cliff-side madrona blown from a shore,


tossed and soaked but safe enough

in the troughs of the chop. I remember


this when I think of us, what we call

our attraction—pull of the moon


on the one sea, its reunion, once

the land’s no longer between us.


Jed Myers’ poetry collections include Watching the Perseids (Sacramento Poetry Center Book Award), the chapbook The Nameless (Finishing Line Press), and the limited-edition handmade chapbook Between Dream and Flesh (Egress Studio Press). Among honors received are Southern Indiana Review’s Editors’ Award, the Literal Latte Poetry Award, New Southerner’s James Baker Hall Memorial Prize, and, in the UK, the McLellan Poetry Prize. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Prairie Schooner, Nimrod, Greensboro Review, Crab Creek Review, Painted Bride Quarterly, Crab Orchard Review, and elsewhere. He is Poetry Editor for the journal Bracken.

Table of Contents | Next Page

Print Friendly, PDF & Email