Palos Verdes

each breaker
slack-tongued from its long gallop from china
flopped on the beach
stretched its long back
white paws reaching almost to our sneakers
then melted into sleep leaving
a fresh varnish on the sand
a ragged signature of foam

familiar with danger we knew to skirt
the slushy bag of a jellyfish
its violent ribbons strung across our path

and piratical by nature we kidnapped
the hermit crabs
that skittered among the rocks
fleeing the giants

but the true pacific treasure we sought was
abalone shells

a chunk of pavement broken from the road
a craggy island warty with volcanoes

but turn it over

iridescence of pearls in a silver mist
       lacquer of moonlight in a stone chalice
              crystalline swath of a sea nymph’s robe

the breakers keep asking
where is she           where is she           where is she

South Dakota Review, (Fall 2010) 48(3): 96-97.