I'm drenched in angst each time I skirt the bay.
Some unforgiven sin still twists me back
to stalk chance flotsam when the tide goes slack,
night drifters dropped as moonlight pulls away.
Jane's blood rose once to roam the bite of day
for seaglass, driftwood, shells along our track.
I'm drenched in angst each time I brush the bay.
Some unforgiven sin still twists me back.
Flesh falls against the waters' rhythm and play.
She would have cried to hear the ducklings quack -
they stir her ashes' grey into the black.
The dancing tide counts too how long I'll stay.
I'm drenched in Jane each time I grok the bay.
Tyson West is currently the featured US poet at Muse-Pie Press. For more information, check out his biography in the Haiku Registry.