Hidden
Beach
If mother, in slumber, arched her back
and spine came cracking from beneath,
this would be Hidden Beach. Black Rocks,
her vertebrae, once lava wont to fold, now
basalt, diamond-hard and scorched in gold.
A ring-billed gull, carrot-beaked, comes balking
that we stalk him. Wide set eyes, a seabird
dares the cyan sky to mock him.
Hug yourself, for sea caves' laugh may
wake the coastal giant, siren mother.
When sands beneath our feet, wet glass
in sheets, make more than shutter.
Jess L Parker lives in Fitchburg,
Wisconsin. She is originally from the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. Her
poems have appeared in Bramble,
Kosmos Quarterly, Blue Heron Review, etc. Her debut poetry
collection, Star Things, was
the winner of the 2020 Dynamo Verlag Book Prize.