Issue 4 Cover_final_web Poecology

Issue 4

 

 
 

Stephen Siperstein

 

Sand Dollars

 
 
In unquiet water the small grey circles
looked like familiar faces in the light
though strange that they lived upright
swallowing sand to keep themselves

down. We gathered bucketfuls of the dead,
bleached them white on old boards,
glued them to driftwood with limpets,
periwinkles, sprigs of dried heather and
carried them to the fair by the old millpond.

There, travelers handed us dollars
for a chance to decipher those five
pointed instructions on how to live,
how to bury oneself without illusion

of possession, how to make a small protest
against subsidence, and this was ours:
wading through warm water, watching
for the faces of angels rising we covered
            those that might still live.