Tidal Pools by Lane Timothy Speidel
Tidal pools carve a spiral thru the rock an ocean’s,
long fingers making delicate beads, designing a necklace we are too young to see.
The human heart is a spiral flowing salted blue I feel at times choked with tears.
My watch band is tight against my pen & each word is too small & anemic for the sea.
She takes the poems & songs & paintings, the suicides & shipwrecks,
& trash & oil & forgotten myths,
she does & still works away at the latticed shore & floats clear thru.
My heart is the smallest jetty & thread thru with blood filled tidal pools.
Intricate worlds that ought to be left alone.
I promise I won’t hurt them but how can I know for sure.
Each wave redistributes the little cities of grief.
I must take it gratefully even though I can’t name the waves.
The ocean is wise beyond all wisdom, largeness impossible.
With a song for every molecule that we could never capture.
Altho we are fools to strain our voices & our paintbrushes, so.
If only we read the music written upon our hearts & the spiral shore.
