by Gregg Weatherby
Just after the summer solstice
in the shallow water of twilight
near silence in the steady rain
no birds even
my gaze is pulled by the waves
to islands
there is a different gravity
off the mainland
time is quiet
insistent dreams of ghosts
old addresses haunt me
even in daylight a sense
that it’s time
a bubble effervescent
evanescent
floating to its ending
to the taut surface
of its ending
Gregg Weatherby is a poet, actor, and scholar. He has also been a ranch foreman, deckhand, bartender, and managing editor of SPIN Magazine (among others). He has published three chapbooks of poetry: Under Orion (Pudding House), Bone Island, and Approaching Home (Finishing Line Press). He lives in Ithaca, New York.