The Sand Dollar Inn
Ocean Views from Every Room
Here, engraved in someone else’s
name, is a bench where we can sit
and watch the waves go in and out.
Lean back, sop up the horizontal sun
trawling west across Georgia Strait.
Why don’t I leave you here?
Why don’t I take a stroll out where
the tide will turn, that wave-stamped
swathe of darker, wetter sand
where families shore up their castle walls
and sift debris for intact shells
faux gems of bottle glass and fossil scraps
of runic worm-written wood
the sea collects for us to hold.
Feature Date
- January 31, 2018
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Copyright © 2017 by Beverley Bie Brahic
All rights reserved.
Reproduced by Poetry Daily with permission
Beverley Bie Brahic’s collection White Sheets was a 2012 Forward Prize finalist; Hunting the Boar is a 2016 Poetry Book Society Recommendation. Her Apollinaire translation won the 2013 Scott Moncrieff Prize, and Francis Ponge, Unfinished Ode to Mud was a Popescu Prize finalist. A Canadian, she lives in Paris. Her website is: www.beverleybiebrahic.com
Issue 123
Dublin
Ireland
Editor
Eavan Boland
Assistant Editor
Paul Lenehan
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