Cabo De Gata, December
Kercheval, Jesse Lee
for Leon-Paul Fargue
In vain, the waves come from
Africa to kiss your feet.
You draw them back
always in time.
You talk: I talk.
No one is listening.
I am choosing rocks
to take home
as gifts. I would cry
but this sea
has enough salt.
I find a rock shaped
like a heart but do not
choose it. Who would
I give it to but you?
You fill your pockets
with broken glass
worn by the sea
to green jewels.
So like you to find
emeralds where I find
cheap souvenirs.
I notice your nose
is dusted with sand
& when I brush it
you don’t flinch.
Maybe we will go home together.
Maybe we wiU so on waging
like this side by side
even if we are not touching.
It is winter. I have never seen
a beach so empty.
I want to say-we could run,
but where would we hide?
JESSE LEE KERCHEVAL’S second poetry book, Dog Angel, is forthcoming from the University of Pittsburgh Press. The University of Wisconsin Press has just reissued her novel The Museum of Happiness and her writing text Building Fiction. She teaches creative writing at the University of Wisconsin, where she directs the Wisconsin Institute for Creative Writing.
Copyright New England Review Winter 2003
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