the tide rises, the tide falls | an oceanic literary magazine
To the End of Orion, You Said,
to the collapse of that pierced belt & bright
shoulder clasp of Betelgeuse, is how far
you would go to understand. I didn’t know
how our skeletons would clash with those
plucked stars, how our rough ribs
would challenge every word, every light
that grew & faded. We take a night hike
to the cliffs over the bay. Find footing
in smudged breath. We, born in shreds
of damp clouds & chanced waves. The sea
laughs at our strain to piece together this
hieroglyph dream, this life. I want to see past
heaven’s backbone. It stretches far, reaches &
centers in the crevasse of the flung sky.
We bathe in its rich depth of light. We cling
to what gives meaning: house lights, dark-lined
trees, smell of wet sage, late season honey-
suckle, & the continual muted asking of a dark ocean.
Lynn Finger’s poetry has appeared in Night Music Journal, Ekphrastic Review, Daily Drunk, 8Poems, Perhappened, and is forthcoming in Drunk Monkeys. Lynn is an editor at Harpy Hybrid Review and works with a group that mentors writers in prison. Follow Lynn on Twitter @sweetfirefly2.