Issue Four

Summer 2012


Wondering If They Really Should Be Called 'Breakers'

What really breaks here?  Something we should mourn?
It’s true that skyward arcs aspire, then fail,
collapsing when they meet the weighty scorn
of gravity.  Wet violence assails
the blameless dry land, and damp molecules
that flowed together, possibly for miles,
are parted, some to languish in dank pools
for hours before reclaimed by tidal wiles.
But tension breaks here, too—a tension built
perhaps for miles.  And long-held silence breaks,
as blue reserve yields to white water’s roar.
A wave breaks tangled clumps of weed and silt,
but neither hearts nor promises.  What makes
us mourn breaks elsewhere, not along this shore.


Jean L. Kreiling