sea foam

it rained all week at the beach.
what a gift to know so many forms
of water. we let the wind off the shore
make kites of us. our lungs in the clouds.
the sea gulls stood, beaks to gale,
cutting the wind into ribbons. we looked
far out where the waves argued
like old brothers. on thursday we stayed up late.
i read your cards & you tried to read mine.
you got the death card & i got
so many cups. i could never hold this much
water even if i tried. sometimes i think about
stopping t for a year so that i can remember
the shape emotions used to take beneath my skin.
the rivers & the tide pools.
i remember one year at the shore my father
spent almost the whole time in the attic watching
dvds of mash. we talk about him.
how we're glad he didn't come this year.
the story of our family is a story of 
scattering. shells in the crash.
us, either side of a clam. when we walk on the beach
i follow the sea foam. soft on my feet. 
the edge between the warm ocean and the hushing sand.
it stormed one night when we were at the shore
as kids. a wild storm.
water & birds against the roof.
we slept side by side near the window. 
saw lightning illuminating the cracks in 
the big blue-dark sky.