THREE POEMS
The kid is letting the thread go
you go after itblue ring that binds it to earthskipping over tidal sinewclumped like battlementsyou are runningeven when the kitekeeps straightcauliflowering current the baysculpts without embankment fall deepseaward sea lionspop up their cat headsand pull yourself back outare we in someone’s shortone of us asksas the kids run closewho can frame the box kite’s silhouettegrown smallerthe line unspooling as it risestoward oyster farm and salt worksfound latercaught in a yard’s brambleit would have flown through the night
