he and she, two figures clasped,
one last embrace of bitter-sweet;
the sun fades sullen through gray mist,
reflects dimly off the orange rocks
and skips the tips of blue-green waters—
all earth comes from the waves
and to the waves returns; and life as well,
an ebb and flow whose impact
is in no way lessened by routine.
great empires succumb, no more or less
than you or I; the gentle waves lap
skin and stone, wood and bone, and yet:
still we mourn the love that's lost
when the selkie returns to sea.
First published in Bull Spec, issue 5,
Spring 2011.
That magazine is gone, so this is the copy that’s left.
As it ran
Bull Spec, issue 5 (Spring 2011)
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