Long Time, Sea

NaPoWriMo April 25: Today’s challenge asks you to write your own poem in which you use at least three metaphors for a single thing, include an exclamation, ruminate on the definition of a word, and come back in the closing line to the image or idea with which you opened the poem.

For someone from away and who goes away on a regular basis, I guess I have a lot of nerve to be annoyed when I don’t hear from people. And, as for poetry, I don’t usually explain how I get there from here, because I can’t--but today’s prompt required some map-making…

*My three metaphors for levels of contact by s/he who shall not be named: low, ebb, and high tide.
The definition of “from away,” on Deer Isle, in Maine, is the rest of the world; you’re either from Deer Isle or “from away.”
*Exclamation: first two whingy lines.
*Ruminated and circled back to the waste of the loss (of contact)

Not thrilled with this one, but I have a big, fat, busy day with long-awaited and much-wanted guests on the way. BTW, I’ve just added a way to subscribe to my website (see menu.) No idea if it works. In any case, outside of April, I don’t post very often. Onward!

Long Time, Sea
by Elizabeth Boquet

This ebb tide of yours has got to go
one way or the other. I don’t know which,
as I float on my back, ears in the water
tuning for your voice, eyes on the sky.
Low tide provides proof you’re still away.
On the beach, I scour the shore’s lack
of artifacts from our last bonfire.
The burnt ring sinks with each high tide
that brings its flotsam—lost net and string
on a slippery path that may have crossed
yours but failed to catch you, too.