by Xiaoly Li
I’m drawn to the ocean where
seagulls’ high pitch and coo
choir
the sea.
I wrote my first poem
first time I saw the ocean.
You and I lay on the beach,
heart-thumping
until the guard asked us to leave.
I remembered you sang, carry away
a light from the boat, moor it
at the maple bridge. We walked
along the shoreline. Each trace
erased
by waves.
When days feel blue,
the shore stares at each
coming and going, and
roaring where my heart
settles
and it floods my ears.
