from Peggy Newland's novel in progress, Bending Betty
way home is a heart. Deep harbored arteries flipping blue
to a sea gone red, sky cattering stars to the clouds. Night
air against skin, across rocky beaches, spruce forest, small
cove, and my pulse leaving sand to shells to sunken clam holes.
The surface so blue, so blue as I stretch over the swaying
kelp, stirring strands with a finger. And my weight is the
rhythm of tide, memory a simple rising and falling. I am nothing
more than current, moon, a circularity of time now. And that
is enough. That truly is enough."
to Peggy Newland's page
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January 4, 2005