Islands of Eternity
Broken sand and shells disappear under a frayed, capped ocean:
smooth-edged clouds shade cypress trees from the sun,
as endless seams of waves float ashore.
I hold dull berms or seeds to bury in the loam—
washed in afternoon; screened dark clouds
hover over the wave-lined ocean.
A cloud is only water risen.
I am water and desire to be a cloud again;
drifting in wind blowing tomorrow’s waves
over shadows that settle between waves
and the time it takes to return.
there are only waves of white and gray water,
footprints or the sun.
PM Flynn holds a B.S. in English from East Carolina University, roasts organic coffee, and has been published in Helen Literary Magazine, the Fictional Café, Main Street Rag, The Grassroots Women’s Project, The Mirror/Slush, Anti-Heroin Chic, 50 Haikus, Fleas on the Dog Online Quarterly, CactiFur, Agape Review, etc.