Whatever boats are left
moored to shore have now
been reduced to flinders,
splinters, fragments.
A quarter mile away, water
mixed with silt has reached
downtown shops, climbing
steps, slapping the faces
of front doors and windows.
* poem, in its entirety, is available in the printed version of the current issue.
Bio:
Richard Luftig is a professor emeritus of educational psychology and special education at Miami University in Ohio who now resides in California. His poems have appeared in numerous literary journals in Canada, the United States, Europe, Asia, and Australia, and his poetry collection A Grammar for Snow has been published by Unsolicited Press (see richardluftig.com).