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Walking to the Ocean: Dawn

Carolyn Smart
From:   The Way To Come Home. London, Ontario : Brick Books, 1992.


I am too tired for sentimentality,
and the ocean looks cold, so
I press your cheek to mine, Daniel,
and we walk out along the promenade--
you held high in my arms

It seems natural to be lost in the roll of waves
and the sawing of insects,
all night to lie hearing this,
then stand up and walk to the ocean
while the heat grows around us
like a room filling up with parachutes

Hold my hand now, Daniel,
your plum-size fist
and darkening lashes precise as flames
When the doctor cut me open
and saw you crouching there
my tenderness spilled out
Grey, wet boy they pummelled into life,
what do words like need or sorrow
mean to you, full or less, my care
for you all in this outstretched hand

We walk to the empty beach,
I am thinking cleanly of your birth
How could I have imagined
a love as artless as this



Carolyn Smart's works copyright © to the author.


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