"A View of Stillness" by John Hardesty
Marine Layer
there is nothing subtle about the ocean’s breath
settling thick and heavy over the volvo’s hood
pussy willow lichen old beard grey death
pushes its fingers over rolled down windows, damp wood
and seaweed slick sand. a summer on the coast
memorizing sea with pebbled toes, hair
salt-crusted and light, back a red roast
blooming into freckles. but here the air
sings low and green, the sky a flat dime
a cold whisper a crab claw a clam’s shell
rolls dark, a long finger, a straight line
dips an ankle into the blue well
of bright sky, kisses the sun’s cheek
and wraps itself wet on our shoulders to sleep.
there is nothing subtle about the ocean’s breath
settling thick and heavy over the volvo’s hood
pussy willow lichen old beard grey death
pushes its fingers over rolled down windows, damp wood
and seaweed slick sand. a summer on the coast
memorizing sea with pebbled toes, hair
salt-crusted and light, back a red roast
blooming into freckles. but here the air
sings low and green, the sky a flat dime
a cold whisper a crab claw a clam’s shell
rolls dark, a long finger, a straight line
dips an ankle into the blue well
of bright sky, kisses the sun’s cheek
and wraps itself wet on our shoulders to sleep.
Clair Dunlap grew up just outside Seattle, WA, where she started writing poetry at the age of 6. She now lives in Minnesota and spends her free time missing the ocean, making vegan cheese, and holding impromptu dance parties in her kitchen. Her work can be found in Words Dance Magazine, Germ Magazine, BLIND GLASS, and others.
John Hardesty is a 35 year professional driver, amateur photographer, wheeler dealer and part time petunia grower. He's been married to Audra for 14 years and lives in Rapid City, South Dakota. He also makes a pretty good sandwich.
