Angels Weep For Us
Bill Beardslee

Colors fade as light withdraws.
The gull swoops down
On one tiny morsel of a dead crab
The salt wind massages the sands
While the body’s passage
affords no such need
The cracks in the sidewalk multiply
beyond avoidance
cracked backs
bent over bodies
pine for relief
The sunset’s a blaze
orange fire
over the ridge
the lone lobster boat razed
The old man
wanders aimless
over the ancient swing bridge
stopped
by the breeze scent
of many oceans
washing over him
His
lone
white
hair
flutters
in the wind.
his eyes
stutter
as he remembers
something.
The fog horn
in the distance
beacons him.
Next to him
an old lantern paint-chipped
post
bent
Alone.

a rusty sign
dangles
Swings slowly
squeaks loudly
in the wind.
Countless terns
pad
the packed
wet sand
their prints
exclamations
of what has been

He turns to the Rocks
who continue to watch

like angels who draw close
If only to weep for us.