Broken

There was a shell,
just a broken bit of one really
rolling in the surf,
its once-jagged edges
smoothed by years of friction.

It tumbled toward me,
and away,
as the water rushed
in, up, out, and back.

I tried to catch it, but
in my unwillingness to get wet
I missed.

Leave Me Not

In the crab-grass tangles beneath the bloomless azalea,
crickets play graveled violins. Rasping concertos weave

through strings of a gibbous moon, and the wind turns
in conch shell pirouettes. But tip-toed seduction

is for the love-struck. I am not aroused bywaifish
clouds or midnight dust devils dancing on point.

Tangle me instead in kudzu, bold and twisted, gnaw me
with relentless vines and sunshine. Wrap me in thunder,

drown me in lightning - as storm soaked wisteria climbs.
Lay me on the raw earth; roll me in mud and puddles.

And when you go, leave menot with starlight,
but with grass-stains to remember you by.