surf

have dreamed in glowing color
of absolutely silent
brutal
violation
eyes pleading in wordless agony
for help I could not give
and I was frozen

I have dreamed
of anger acidly burning
my human soul
scarring it beyon any hope whatever
of barren sterility too dry for tears

I woke sensitive
to ominous ticking and drippings
screaming animals
and strange, hateful mutterings

finally
I dreamed of the sea
desolation of the shore in march
pipers skittering from
swishing wavelets
windamp, salt scented cold

farther out
sea force shattered itself
on huge, gull covered rocks
sending up the birds
in a mass of screeching grey
slid to shore, quiet
but for the clok of pebbles
and the swish of white froth

today rains
quiet but for the occasional
plop of a puddle
and a small wind in the eucalyptus
now and then, a bird screechees
jay or mockingbird
not a gull
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