The Fieldstone Review

Cape Spencer

We drive till pavement cracks.

Far ocean rolls in black,
rhythmically raked by light-
house; fingernails furrow backs.
Breakers scoop out caves, salt-ground,

resound in the stomach of earth.
Fogbanks from up shore
bind our eyes: grains of mist settle
beneath lids. The brain inhales.

Signs only emerge when near enough to touch.
Unstable cliff
. Might fall beyond the known,

to where a stretch of infinity
tempts our toes.
Take just one step. Go on.

We just shiver
in a backseat
and turn into one another.

A foghorn stirs unmarked wings
and roars its sorrow
into imperishable night.