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Wet Sand

To My Ocean

Two Poems

Delia Corrigan



Mollusk holes
burst like the sizzle
of morning bacon to mar
a smoothness that was there
a moment ago.

The colony of coquina
panics in its exposure,
strains indelicate feet
to dig back under, away
from limicolous beak

while the husks of the others
float then settle, settle, float
their beauty splayed, enhanced
in death. The shells are butterflies
striate and multicolor, around my ankles.

Unquelled, tidewater rushes back, no
mere bygone echo, but reaching
further than what’s expected, transforming
a digging into a lifting as the bivalves
swash and float toward the next.

My feet burrow into ancient sediment.
I want to kneel upon this history.
My choice is to strain or move
with creature surrender.
I remember – I know

the beginning
the now
the end.


To My Ocean

I owe you a poem
that honors your spray crash
path to sun and moon and possibility.
That beats to your pounding rhythm
unmistakable and demanding

Always child to you,
my aloof, watchful Companion,
this offering is yours, like everything
else, longing to rush back into
your deep to be pounded

and smoothed and perfected
as deep calls to deep.
Your rhythm unmistakable
and demanding,
I hear it always.

a small brown shell on wet sand
Contributed By Delia Corrigan

Delia Corrigan has written for The State newspaper; Reach Out, Columbia! Magazine; Lake Murray Magazine; and Columbia Metropolitan Magazine. She is the author of two children’s books, The Bad Haircut Day, and Go Team! Mascots of the SEC. Her poetry has been published in Utmost Christian Writers; Alive Now!, Beginnings magazine, Winning Writers Critique Corner, and Jasper magazine. She lives in Columbia, SC.