At high tide, the sea ejects
foam and glass fishing floats.
We wait for the waters to recede,
tiptoe around anemones and crabs;
I spot a small green globe.
She says it belongs to a Japanese goddess,
her eyes plucked out by a vengeful lover
and cast into the deep.
I see only an old sake bottle
crafted into a sphere,
etched with sand and netting patterns.
Tomorrow, I will look for agates
while she searches for the goddess’s other eye.
Copyright © 2014 by Christopher Chaffin – All rights reserved
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i enjoyed the finale to this short poem. it shows a difference in character and a sense of humour in the first person.
thanks billy, i appreciate that very much.