A grey-haired, gap-toothed lady
swept in from the coast today with poetry
in her plastic bag. She’s coming back at four,
for bandaids, food and shelter.
Brilliant blue cow-vetch and silvery
bits of driftwod were sticking to her
skirted thoughts— pebbly froth-laced coastline, the
buoyancy of waves.
Will she say just how the wind blew
through her balcony back home?