Naomi Rhema Edwards - convexexile@yahoo.com
The Small Light
White feet in low tides
Beheaded by light
Salt-withered
And will we ever see
That cloudy man o' war
Take the shallows?
Mussels clasp rubble
A plastic fork snared
In red algae
We laugh at wet skin
Tinged by spreading dusk
The purple of guts
A small and burning light
That we only see later
From the balcony
We say, look at those kids
Chasing the last waves
Before the still night
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