Martin Arnold

Nag’s Head

Decades of silence glitter in the silicon distances
Between constellations

 

Of starfish littering the beach
My father and I are learning

 

To navigate. Yesterday, between us,
A blinding wind of sand and

 

Sea foam. Today, slender plumes of plunging gulls,
Squadrons of pelicans

 

Skimming pipes of curling waves, dolphins
Turning like propellers just past the breakers,

 

The smashed armor of horseshoe crabs.

 

He describes waking from a midday nap

Against a log after setting up camp

 

To buzzards circling, his father’s gangrene
After a botched intestinal surgery,

 

The chemo pills he’s taking to fight
The leukemia pillaging his body—

 

As busy little harmless birds
Scurry in and out of the surf.

 

There are so many gaps we rush to fill,
So much time to make up for,

 

And so little chance of actually telling each other
Everything

 

Though it feels good to try

 

As we walk this beach named for horses
Pirates hung ship lanterns from

 

Dark and lonely nights

 

To lure sailors into these shoals
Looking for safety

 

In the company of another ship.


Martin Arnold