The ruins of the day—scraps
of sun strewn among
the hollows of the sand—are soon undone
by night’s hand. The way the wind
can wash the sea
or flatten a row of grasses
with a single sudden gust. The way
a word can unfurrow a brow.
So with you, I could lay down
at the water-crushed edge of a shore.
Only the moon would remain
untouched, but still—to my eyes—
changed.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 15, Issue 4.
Katherine Rauk is the author of the chapbook Basil (Black Lawrence Press 2011). She has poems published in Harvard Review, Georgetown Review, Harpur Palate, Cream City Review, and elsewhere, and she is an assistant editor of Rowboat: Poetry in Translation.See all items about Katherine Rauk