by Stuart Greenhouse

If only wet sand could be used, and only
under the wrack-line is there wet sand,
well, there’s your problem. Too little
to carry too much up to
the two blankets laid together, too big
not to feel the problem
in your bones. Change is bad,
you poor thing, you decided
so long ago you can’t remember
ever feeling any different,
and change is coming, so you feel
for your nascent castle
as if it were your home.
How to save it? There’s a line
two thousand miles long
of children
who don’t care, but you care, you
want to build a castle you can live in.
For all your staring, though, you can’t see
how to mold the walls to ripples
like what high tide leaves behind
ahead of time, the windows
to sound like wind.
They leave theirs
to be flattened leveled undone
so happily, you know
they’ve figured something out
but you
can’t see what
the secret is.

*Photo courtesy JennRation Design.