St. Patrick's Day Dream

St. Patrick's Day Dream


2am 
a sudden start
and an expectation of a midnight sun
more of a glow, really
raven has swallowed the sun
and all we see is the light streaming through his conniving lips

i scurry along the dock
dodging nets piled high or hung to air
stinking of seaweed and fish guts
the only sounds a lapping at the pilings
and the creaking of masts in the salt heavy breeze

a time of wonder for the girl
clapping under street lights 
the language of bats
with stories of kusaxa kwaan
scaring her eventually to bed

but for the young woman i seek
this morning 
this place 
bruised
as she quietly
secretly
mourns
i am careful not to trip on the nets

my guilt holds this memory
how like a weathered knot
such shame can scar a soul

how i cried past my dangling legs
into the waves
the nets piled high at my back
that plane hitting the mountain
wondering whose face you saw last

this day resurrected each year
the stench of gill nets under a 2am sun 
30 years fresh

© Copyright 2009 Deltina Hay
From her upcoming book “Wild Child”