Autumn Sky Poetry . . . Number 8 . . .
 

Whispers from the Pier


Beyond the dunes there is a place

where jetty poles are snapped

and mark a death, graveyard on sand.


Like scriptless stones, they guard

the buried days. Split with salt,

they sag but watch. We were there

once, beneath the choking wood, dying

with the pier in shadows. No one


heard us, naked in the rain, whispering

the wind quiet, crying the clouds dry.

We could have been anyone. We could

have been old gulls. Or tides, eroding

legs and life, returning the dust.


Above our heads, the fleeing feet

tapped out our grief. They ran

to rooms in the storm, left us

to the dark, the swell, the grinding

rides. Left us, to the rotting heart.


One time, there was a peace

below the moon, when sky

and sea held hands. On the flat,

the boards drew breath and saw

the sky wheel spinning.








by Patrick Carrington


Patrick Carrington is poetry editor at Mannequin Envy (which can be found at www.mannequinenvy.com), and author of Thirst (Codhill, 2007), Rise, Fall and Acceptance (Main Street Rag, 2006), and the forthcoming Hard Blessings. His poetry has appeared recently (or will soon) in The Connecticut Review, Rattle, The Evansville Review, Pebble Lake Review, and other journals.


“Whispers from the Pier” first appeared in Willard & Maple.

© 2007 Patrick Carrington