Edges
by David Cooke
I don’t know where to start. Far before the moon pulled the tide
to your chin. Before your groin became a grotto. Before the brine
washed away the haloes your feet squeeze into the sand. I don’t
believe in the alchemy of eels and their mud.
It started before you felt their slither.
I know where this ends. With lungs shortening and sinuses burning
like searadish. You tread and estimate how much longer you can stand.
I know the sound of the ocean’s throat. I carry its homunculus in my ear.
The sea’s words won’t heal you.
Neither will the earth. Though you press your heel on the folded
edge of a spade and kick the ashes to reveal an ember. It glows–
a window you stand outside of. The ground does not move. You
visit the same stone. Eat a meal of lavender seeds, but it will pass.
You think the horizon’s distant line is not crossed. It slides, like
a floater on your eye. It flees your direct gaze. Like the moon,
it moves with you as you drive the switchbacks to Grizzly Peak.
You don’t think you’re in it.
You need distance for each wet piece of dust to appear as fog.
Stop. Pushing the sky to the edges. You know where the sea starts.
Where your land ends. The sky starts there, too. I’ve got my fingers
on your head. In the air is where you live. The sea loves only its own.
The earth knows only the print of your stride.
The sky is closer than the chill on your wet finger.
It suddenly touches you, enters you. The sky starts
somewhere near the rough spot on the bottom of your heel.
“Edges” was selected by Major Jackson as the winner of the 2009 Ruth Stone Poetry Prize.
- Read honorable mention “Falsifiability” by Ravi Shankar.
- Read honorable mention “Hearing Voices” by Georganna Millman.
- For information about the 2010 Ruth Stone poetry prize, which will be judged by Matthew Dickman, click here.
- For more poems, click here.
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Truly deserving. Pulled me into its layers. Congrats David.
Looking forward to enjoying more of your works.
Beautiful work! Not surprised at all to read something of that depth from David.
Hey David — rich and textured. Like the feel of the prose. Congrats again — I know you’re happy about this!
Very enjoyable stuff. Wonderful texture.
I would give anything to have written just the one line about the fog!
Wow … gorgeous imagery. One of the most deserving prize poems I’ve ever read.
David,
I was alive, but buried in your poem.
Thanks.
Ingrid
I enjoy this repeatedly.
Imagery yes, but how I make it my own.
I can see this as the person one can’t help.
The one beyond reach and how to define it. How to say someone is human, without making them so.
Truly, truly deserving…. deserving of a pushcart too! Honestly, one of my favourite poems I have read this year — not 2010 (that would be mean to say), 2009, and I consider myself well read — “I do”. Honestly, all the best, and I hope to be able to read more of your work in the future.
Awesome poem. I have read it three times and each time it surprises me. Beautiful imagery. The sea, the sky, the earth and the horizon may never look the same to me again. Or the rough spot on my wife’s heel. Way to go, David Cooke.
I loved this poem. Have read it often and each time something new appears. The sky, the earth, the horizon, even the rough spot on my wife’s heel, will never be viewed in quite the same way. We have an emerging poet here in David Cooke, who is aiming for the stars.
Much thanks to everyone who has commented, to those who have read and reread Edges. I just wanted to note that I discovered another meaning for groin: a small jetty extending from shore to prevent erosion. Also Fred Melden found that there is a newt that holds its head above water which he worked into the logic of the poem. Fascinating!
This is great. So evocative.