Mary once told me “ocean have wings
like a boat has an oar.”
We walk along white shackled sand
the repelling warmth of water.
Our block of words breaks open
air goes dry like the moon.
She found four veils of black weed this summer
gifts surrounding the window of my room
our landscapes scattered in darkness.
Night fell in its handmade lures.
Silence prefers a cool climate.
Our lives are sewn with poppies, not rhymes.
The water became light and was narrow
born from a colder sea.
We grew wider, deeper, emptier,
in a home not our own.
Our stories became obscure
in the meandered wetness—
she will bring me back something beautiful.
I am an artist and poet. I live and work in Olive Hill, Ky. with the poet George Eklund. We have four children together; Waylon, Thomas, Fiona, and Marina. I've been writing poetry since I learned to read and write, which was about third grade. I write in order to breathe and survive. My favorite things to do include reading and writing poetry and spending time with my family. I also paint. You can find out more about me @ http://www.lauraeklund.org or follow me on facebook @ The Art of Laura Eklund.