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[Poetry] Two Poems by Sharon Carter

Wave Theory

The lagoon stumbles out, a blue sheet,

rimmed by a green line of mangrove.

Sky folds against ocean, a faint crease

parsed by clouds. Your letter,

a single paragraph. I filter hot

sand through my fingers, accept

the probability—it’s over. You

are a hundred and eighty degrees

of longitude away—I am only a memory

struggling to stay real. From where I sit,

time and light don’t bend to your presence.

Beyond the sand bars, where Pacific

and Atlantic oceans meet, two waves

pass through each other, continue on.

Shi Shi Beach

Winter’s ocean hurls cedar

bones ashore. Mist-veiled

sea-stacks drown

without protest on their long

march to Japan, erode

to jagged points echoing

fins at low tide. Professionals

arrange cameras for future

calendar shots, so focused

they miss tidepool's purple

starfish, how seagull's invented

cuneiform script. Crows scatter

to black confetti against sun’s

last pulse. The photographers'

footprints wash away.

Sharon M. Carter is a poet and visual artist originally from Lancashire, England. She recently retired from a career in healthcare. Fortunate to have been supported by Hedgebrook and the Jack Straw Writers program during her early writing, her work has been published in many magazines, including Terra Nova, The Madrona Project, Pontoon, Ars Medica, and the award-winning Take a Stand: Art Against Hate anthology. Her poetry book, Quiver, was published last year.


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