In this vast and choppy
ocean of conversation,
we have so much to lose.
Moisture, mostly,
that easy lubrication
of vein and tongue,
heart and lung,
thought and word.
In cramped canoes,
we lie back to conserve
our strength, catch rain
in cups and caps,
nibble bites of stale bread
twice a day, count stars
at night, strain our brains
to recognize the archer,
the scorpion, the giant bear.
So many things can kill us
out here. Storm, starvation,
shark. Sentences spin
like converging typhoons,
and above them all lurks
the dark thundercloud of meaning.
At sea you can’t hide
from lightning bolts.
What blessed relief
when the boats we tie our own to
with salt-stiffened ropes
pull us like a mother
in their direction, rocking slowly
toward a speck in the distance.
“Land ho!” we might cry.
“I follow you! I follow you now!”
Jo Angela Edwins
Jo Angela Edwins teaches at Francis Marion University in Florence, SC. Her poems have appeared in various venues including Calyx, Adanna, Whale Road Review, Typishly, and Number One. Her chapbook Play was published in 2016. She has received poetry prizes from Poetry Super Highway and the South Carolina Academy of Authors and is a Pushcart Prize nominee.
Artwork: sugarmints
Website: https://www.deviantart.com/sugarmints
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