Drawstrings by Brandon Shane

Drawstrings

Living among the beach gulls,

the turtles crawling back into the ocean

are torches battling the salty wind among

nomads who stay until they are noticed,

oh, how happy the scholars

dead studying the sand,

the nights spent watching the waves

tell you something about their lives,

the dolphins under no threat of capture

remind you of their consciousness.

The silence will describe

what the daylight is missing

when crowds have dispersed.

There is more living here

after the men have slept,

like birds knowing migration from blood

before the arrows and explosives,

if you listen closely

you can hear the chest, the heart,

the lungs expanding,

distance between you

and the horizon, is not so far,

the drowning sailor or stowaway

observant infants who know cries

will meet no relief

when the lighthouse has yet

to be built;

fill a glass with water

drink it

and drown, the fish crows

will skip like rocks,

the angels may swoop

or they may not,

what fugitive forests

how beautiful the canopy,

ask the seagrass

about peace,

suffering is projection.

from the surface.