Rob Jackson: “Red Tide”
RED TIDE
The sea gasps
as crabs litter white Sanibel sands,
claws outstretched and flexing.
The pocked hand
of a starfish
clenches slowly skyward.
Soles plate the beach,
eyes dark and lusterless,
gulls gorging jelly.
A manatee bloats near high tide
as blow flies swarm
to pierce its skin.
Onshore winds whip
panicgrass over beach dunes,
raw in their exposure,
and a child bears water’s malice,
a rash from swimming,
the scratch of asthma’s rise.
Rob Jackson is a Guggenheim Fellow who has recent or forthcoming poems in various journals, including Southwest Review, Cold Mountain Review, Cortland Review, Atlanta Review, LitHub, and others.