A coastline can pardon a metropolis,
in a roar of surf, in gritty, sea salt layers,
in an ocean mist sift of attrition.
Water, the most cunning shape shifter of all
distracts from grey high rises
in the breaking gush of waves.
Survival’s easier along a coast if you really listen.
I imagined this city long ago,
where ancient fishing weirs stood
between lakes Couchiching and Simcoe,
its Mohawk name tkaronto
where there are trees standing in water.
From the viewing deck of CN Tower,
snowfall blurred the expanse of Lake Ontario.
The ice cleaved from bobbing yachts
moored at pontoons, small as playthings
fenders like balloons. While foraging
for comfort so far from home,
Brent geese comb Barrow Bay,
with bills spooning algae and eelgrass.
They depart land sites at dusk for sanctuary
in mudflats and stars, while an ocean away
I seek solace in a circumpolar
constellation, in a pull towards the moon.
About the Poet
Lorraine Carey’s poems are widely published, featuring in Gyroscope Review, Orbis, Prole, Poetry Ireland Review, The Waxed Lemon, Black Nore Review, The Curlew, One, The High Window, The Stony Thursday Book and Eunoia Review among others. Longlisted in The National Poetry Competition 2019, she’s working on a second collection. Originally from Co. Donegal, she now lives in Kerry.
For the first time in nearly five years, Vita Brevis is closed for submission. Read the full story here.