You Can See How the Waves
by Michael Milligan
You
can see how the waves
roll in and out but the shore
remains
intact. Essentially
unchanged. Or how a seed
opens
and the shoot pushes up
while the root thrusts down.
A
horizon of sun above, mineral
and water below. Argue
if you must how the shore manifests
instability, how grains of sand
are
swept off the beach and cast
into new maps. Or how
canopy
shades the smaller tree
to death while roots crack
the
mortar of a house. Cry out what
you imagine the heart
of
the world to be. What solace
in the harsh knowing all you
love
will perish? The sun rises.
The sun sets. If you think
of
a great circle you are half right.
Consider center and radius,
not
circumference. Consider containment.
You choose the weight of stone
in
your belly when you could
be a feather. In the end none
of
this matters. As you fall or fly
remember the way of the sea.
To
surge is to recede is to surge is to recede.
Michael Milligan has worked as a construction laborer, migrant fruit and grape picker, homestead farmer, and graphic arts production manager. He is co-founder and vice president of Poetry Oasis Inc., a 501(c)(3) literary organization in Worcester, Mass., and co-editor of Diner: a Poetry Journal. His book reviews and poems have appeared or are upcoming in The Valparaiso Poetry Review, The New Orleans Review, 5 AM, and other journals. (7/2005)
