We listened through remnants
of wood and broken stone,
pieces of art selected by the sea
for an exhibition about floods.
Trunks and branches washed high
onto the sand; Kathy didn’t see them,
didn’t talk about the sea, the logs,
the half-gone beach; only of memories,
things from under another sun.
We recalled the bale of hay
swept from a nearby farm;
a large weed-covered heap, its grassy smell,
hot head, taken by the night sea.
Next morning, Kathy was gone too;
the sand left bare, without stones,
without wood, without trace.
Copyright © Ion Corcos 2018
Ion Corcos has been published in Panoply, Clear Poetry, Atrium, The High Window and other journals. He is a Pushcart Prize nominee. Ion is a nature lover and a supporter of animal rights. He is currently travelling indefinitely with his partner, Lisa. Ion’s website is www.ioncorcos.wordpress.com and he tweets at @IonCorcos