On the Beaufort Scale of 2, a light breeze forms wavelets, rustles palms. On the scale of 4, a moderate breeze wipes footprints from the sand, blows a sailboat out to sea—
And on 8, a gale of 40 knots, I paddle my surfboard out in the ocean; make it to the lineup, sit-up, and wait for the sets. A swell approaches. Turning the nose of my board shoreward, I start to paddle then stand. I ride towards those palm branches snapping, and breakers crashing against rock; my mother’s voice gone.
a deep-sea
anglerfish slams
its mouth shut—
for a limpet,
an unknown universe.
.
anglerfish slams
its mouth shut—
for a limpet,
an unknown universe.
.
by Dru Philippou
Taos, New Mexico
first published in Modern English Tanka, V3 N2 (Winter 2008)
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