St. Lucia Landing (excerpt 6)
10
Toy bougainvillea,
a hint of the magenta cascades
across the lane and back in
Dana Point, my old haunt
west of Capistrano, hardly the same
two-seahorse town 20 years on
in full-build gallop—
11
Anchored boat
wobs just so,
a port, a pier,
a raft in the middle,
going nowhere, holding on,
its white-arrow bow
aimed to go when
twin swimmers haul
their sopping selves aboard
12
The English and
French and
spice-route
gumbo lingo
makes a talk I can’t get—
it’s a classical music,
and I can’t i.d.
composer, tune,
or recording number
13
The hermit crab
or fiddler, one claw busy,
works its way uphill,
emerging from a ground hole
or tree base, the slightest move,
then gone—
14
Curved clay tiles,
color of plant pots
and pipes, the same
terra cotta roofing
in hot Mexicali,
mission style, pieces
of tomato-dyed pasta,
hard shells formed on
the shins of early builders
—Paul Marion (c) 2018
