Maine

Uneven sorrow
made with
glossy darkened logs,
splendid grass;
the enmity
of a heavy sky,
and magic
from driftwood knots lying
on copperish mud.
Then,
spots of dull silver
of lichen
and seagulls,
and,
upset straw,
your hair,
in confined freedom
around a stillness
owned by
a schooner aground,
a ship of laments.
Wiscasset, July/74

Carmen O. Menéndez