By Laura Eklund
In those mornings we became wet tulips
eager to place our lips upon the sand
and to light the line that draws the finger.
We began like the sea in the shadows
an escapade of brilliance whose lines keenly turned.
Green, and with wisdom—the wild Ibis roar,
the light could not leave a shadow
or help the sun from engaging a tide.
The beach became long—engraved by Homer
His mask became golden and phallic
seeds dripped from our wet backs.
Like a jar in dark earth
we made the same sounds
sitting on still mules in still bushes.
The birds fly for peace
in the wind of the equator.
We searched for the weight of the birds
like the flowering root of a hand
the entirety of the sun.
About the poet:
Laura Eklund is an artist and poet. She lives and works in Olive Hill, KY, with the poet George Eklund, and has four children with him, Waylon, Thomas, Fiona, and Marina. Laura also paints. Her favorite things to do include reading and writing poetry and spending time with my family.
Laura’s works have appeared in many journals including ABZ, Black Warrior Review, Southern Women’s Review, Pegasus, and Slipstream. And her poetry collection, Song of Lisbon, came out recently from Wind Publications. More can be found out about Laura at www.lauraeklund.org or she can be followed on Facebook at The Art of Laura Eklund.