That Florida Rhythm
My boss compares Florida a lot.
She places it beside Massachusetts,
says it’s the only place she’s lived
where people take a 3-hour lunch,
dogs bark after the postman leaves,
and lovebug wings beat in adagios—
and maybe it’s true that
our lips smack to the ocean’s metronome,
and maybe it’s true that
our sweat crawls like snails down spines,
and maybe it’s true that
I-4 stops for drivers to nap in the sunheat.
Well boss, continue the conference-call:
I think I’ll blackout the camera,
take a canoe and my paddle, and
leave the phone in the car-oven.
I can speak this river’s language,
let the flow and mullet-fish braid
me through mangroves and sunlight.
Tidal Tragedy
The ocean reaches for its dreams and
climbs out two centimeters short.
Hear it groaning for a horizon
that keeps its back turned to tangled foam.
The ocean reaches and crawls and scratches
now four centimeters too short.
Like a metronome
running on year-old batteries,
it can never keep time
or distance—only reach
and fall and reach again for the buildings and
people that will never touch
its edges.
Courtney Moody is Tampa Bay poet and Honor Medallion graduate of the University of Central Florida. In 2022, her poem "Florida Anatomy" was awarded second place for the Florida State Poet's Association Award. Her work can be found in various literary journals and anthologies, such as Calla Press, The Wave, and Capsule Stories’ Starry Nights.
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