Foggy Dawn

Pilings sit in the fog
Like loose teeth in the mouth of the ocean

Homeless specters worry loose boards
And wade in unbroken mist

Birds pick at colorless features
Hearing ripples they can’t see
Sleeping in gray silk

Jetties fall off into broken arms
That carries in rocky bosoms
Tiny feasts

Cheryl J. Long
2009

This poem originally published on January 31, 2009.

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