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Susan Terris Fallen Light The mile-long breakers threaded north-south thump against the western shore. An afternoon of little wind and the shook foil of water is sparked by a thousand fallen suns. In their brilliance, I try to measure September’s failing days, anxious to hold them and seine agates, shells, ancient sand dollar fossils roiling invisibly below the surf. Never assume, I remind myself kneeling on ice plant, because all beauty is promised to darkness as quartz and granite are ground to sand, so a life erodes beneath breakers and fallen light; yet, when the sun is low, even a single grain of sand casts an angular, heart-stopping shadow. Prowl & Growl of a Feline Susan Terris Brown and wrinkled, mane dyed lion-gold Leopard-like sunspots on her limbs Belly low, feet bare, eyes at half-mast, she growls at me when I mention treasure we buried in my veggie garden when we were 12 but not exactly kissin’ cousins Still the same age: I, who wanted a canoe to paddle, and she, with balls, wanted only to play golf every day or contract bridge For me a bridge is to paddle under or to dare crossing the tressle with train tracks as I walk on the slates between the rails She always cat-like with carnal yawps as she raked my face with her sharp claws, but we did dig deep to bury our treasure Coins, rocks, shells and a slice of fruitcake, planning we’d dig it up in 20 years But my old house was sold, and she yowls, shows her teeth when I suggest we ask if we can go behind the new folks garage to dig up our treasure. Animal-like she’d rather chase balls, little white ones, while I kayak, seek new trails to climb Born 4 weeks apart, we are not alike I hunt, search, often try to kill with words as I prowl and howl. Her animal self is timid now and tame. Mine, though, is still wild |
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