29
Elusive
Laurie Kolp
On the cusp
of another
24 hours,
the barren sky
bleeds coral.
Your yellow pail,
half-buried in seaweed,
reeks of rotten catch.
Dusk arrives
like stirred up sand
at the water’s edge
sinking,
still
sinking.
Each wave’s allure
a lure
calling me out
to join the sea
where memories of you
won’t wash over me
every minute
of the day.
Your innocent smile
and trusting eyes
won’t haunt me with regret
of what I failed to do,
how I failed you
when you slipped
out of my hands.