The Afternoon

A Poem

The Beach at Saint-Adresse, painted by Eugène Bordain in 1867

Pelicans hold pointe on the pier
their eyes clever and curved
like the startling orbit of the Earth 
and under them, the fish eat wire
and turn up their eyes in the surf

Freighters cut their water
and sloops roll on the wakes
Waves lap at tethered ships
and in the canvas tarp of the afternoon
the world becomes as little as a waiting room

---