Arsenic Lobster poetry journal Issue Thirty-seven
Spring 2015
Susan Charkes

we were all on cruise control  at differential speeds
the black ship was sinking     the stories slithered out
the ravens played at rescue   on the rain-slicked road
you needn’t have bothered    to bring a toothbrush

oh chain oh chain around the parlor floor
a rain-slicked road      in a box by the door
the harbor master cries                      able eyes able eyes
the ravens play at rescue       on the parlor floor

no telling where we came from
no sighing that it’s late
no heaving out the anchor
no blaming it on fate

our lives flow like sand            filling space between the marbles
the mystery my dear is in the telling              where it came from
the sand the sand the harbor master cries
the ravens play at rescue         on the sand-slicked road

where they came from             they didn’t tell
play on play on          the harbor master cried
we held each marble in a rain-slicked hand
all the same all the same it’s too loud turn it down

and tomorrow it will be raining

About Susan Charkes

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