20 July 2009 | Vol. 9, No. 2

Pensacola Beach, March

If my I put my ear to Daisy's

I hear her grape-sized heart

& she, tiny love, knows not

sense, but nothing
ever does, not

feet, Daisy, come back


pleading, Daisy

& the water is receding

wraps around her arm
flab, & waddles

pumping erratic
milliliters of blood

the unfocused, gray cloud
in the left sliver of her right
iris, a mumbling
light that will never make

the jigsaw of her
skin, the finger-
long bands of muscle
in her legs, her

from the ocean's brink,

from the seagull's manic

from my tongue
which sounds like
glass, which unfurls
down the shoreline

a line of star-
fish, discarded
kelp, which Daisy

like a monster.

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About the author:

Joseph P. Wood's first book of poems, I & We (CustomWord Editions), is forthcoming in Fall 2010. He is also the author of two chapbooks, Travel Writing (Scantily Clad Press) and In What I Have Done & Failed To Do (Elixir Press). New poems can be found in BOMB, Poetry London, Drunken Boat, H_NGM_N, New Delta Review, and Passages North, among others. He serves as editor for Slash Pine Press and the Slash Pine Poetry Festival.

For further reading:

Browse the contents of 42opus Vol. 9, No. 2, where "Pensacola Beach, March" ran on July 20, 2009. List other work with these same labels: poetry.

42opus is an online magazine of the literary arts.

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