Douglas Cole



I am reaching for the amethyst
center of the sea
trying to name every tree
on the peninsula
but in the back of my mind
I’m still worried about money
and calculating if I don’t eat
I can save enough for school
how many pounds must I shed
to clear the cobwebs of hunger
while the dog scratches at the door
with that deep-woods look
room consumed by drinking rounds
crows collecting as time shifts
and I am back in this brackish
current between a falling apple
and a puff of smoke
so I ripple my way
and sometimes come up for air
sometimes eat the earth
with eyes like meteors
burning in a green bay


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