Washed ashore, I am the coin
of mermaids in your palm.
Your eyes see only treasure,
not the measure of my end.
The sand moves, sculpted by wind.
Endings clarify, chasten.
Lifted from a suitcase, I am the memory
of sun slashed across a cheekbone,
wind-ruffled sea grass, the curl of foam
that spumes above green waves,
bonfires that sear the night sky,
a kiss from one whose footprints
disappeared beyond the dunes.
I am the arid bone of flowered stars.
~ J.P. Reese, Dead Letters
Poetry month has passed (I think it’s Fiction Month now) but poetry will live on for me, and many others, everyday. I’ve been reading a lot of poetry chapbooks and books this year. J.P. Reese’s Dead Letters is a wonderful little chapbook of very personal and touching poems Her manipulation of language is creative and musical and, like music, brings forth your own memories resulting in a feeling of kinship. I highly recommend it. Being a collector of things mermaid, this one is a favorite of mine. I love how it evokes summer nights and memories of long, lazy days at the beach. The last line is gorgeous and hit me like fireworks when I read it. Perfection.