This morning, hope stirred me

from my slumber and has led me

here: the bay’s storied stone.

Here. Where frigid breath meets

ocean’s gelid spit, where history rhymes with

the longing of humans, where

mistress of gull and garden was

once muscular, strong – mainland’s limb reaching into

the sea. Time and tide…

Orphaned

from her body. Now: anthology

of unmendability, alone, spurning the bully’s spit

from emaciated face, and calling

Look at me.

Look how strong I am.