Fumie Hiromitsu

OCEAN POEMS I

We’d left the party early Walking away from the jambe beat
From the smell of smoked weed
From the fire flickering over
Faces deep in the rhythm of music.
We walked back to our camp
Put your children to bed
In their sand filled sleeping bags
And went to sit out on the sand Watching stars in the dark sky
Watching the darker movement of waves Crashing, booming.
A irregular rhythm
constant, never pausing,
As we talked
About your failing marriage
About the weight of responsibly
For your children
The weight of missing your mother.
I stared out at the booming blackness Felt sand under me
Felt the still mending tears
Of my own heart.
Eventually when the words stopped The waves still sounded
Out in the night
And into the morning.


COYOTES 5

I didn’t realize
I missed them
Their lunatic chatter
In the dark corners of night
As autumn turns cold
As stars sharpen overhead
I didn’t realize I missed them
Until they startled me out of fire gazing Their laughter
Sending chills of recognition
Up my spine.

Fumie (she/they) is, like everyone else, just trying to figure it out while spending time outside, flailing on rocks, jumping in rivers, having dirt under the fingernails, getting sand in the teeth; or quietly sitting, reading while dreaming of the next morning’s coffee.

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Wyatt Hersey

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Elise Otto