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To the Fort

by: Shana Genre

Gong of swaying bell buoy
& cry of black-backed gull
sound my welcome.
Beneath, mystery
of urchin, octopus, & humpback whale
move among darkness, caressed by rockweed.

A rare guillemot lands
upon a wide wave,
black and white wings outstretched,
Sharp-eyed cormorants watch,
sentinels for a citadel of stone.

Perhaps I am a trespasser
observing barnacle-encrusted rocks,
crushing periwinkle shells to dust,
pocketing sandy seaglass,
wandering cool, shadowy halls
sheltering only rust and memory.

But it’s my sea, too—
salt and stone and tide.
I am borne aloft by dark water—I am home.

Shana Genre is a poet and satirist based in Portland, Maine. Her work has appeared in The Cafe Review, McSweeney’s, Frost Meadow Review, The Haven, and Balancing Act 2: An Anthology of Poems by Fifty Maine Women, for which she won the Editor’s Choice award.


Archive, The River

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