The Wreck of King Philip
When we arrive at the beach,
sun-soaked and salty,
the sight of her sand-mired stern
is anti-climactic.
Sleep deprivation has that affect:
there is either too much climax
or none at all.
Bereft of anchor, she ran aground here in 1878,
abandoned by all her men,
left to splinter and keen
on the January shore.
I circle her half-submerged shell
clicking pictures and searching
for some kind of feeling,
for the smallest quiver
of shivery timbers,
but get only sand
in the eye.
-Lo, all sandy-eyed.
LaDonnaWitmer 