by Paul C. Binotto
© 2019
Edgartown was blowing down
All round, St. Lizzies, winds were howling
“I do”, “we do”, our love’s crowning
Rings were rounding, all around. We.
Peggy on her hands and knees crawling,
Out of her sea tub, rising, reaching.
Rivulets of soapy water falling,
Down the smooth contours of her back arching.
We watched the sun rising,
Turned around to see it setting.
Our hearts were Isle of Haut free,
Reading candle-lighted poetry,
In bed. The lobster bells were singing,
To rhythms of Spinster Atlantic’s preening.
Feathers, weaving a sea bed, soft with meaning.
The darkest night a starry daylight gleaming.
Oh, dear Madeleine, what makes you île,
Archipelago; Split-personality, girl;
Bilingual voices, singing in your mind,
Singular sea-skin, wrapped around two riddles to unwind?
Fostertales 