Job Description

The Voice: What are you doing on this shore?

My Voice: I mark the margins of the sea,
I check the waves with my two feet,
I count the seashells as they float.
I note the secrets of each stone,
As they weigh less each time they roll,
I read the algae’s dance in foam,
As they define the ocean’s mind.
With my weak senses, I make sure
Of taking samples of the salts
And minerals that traveled down
The fishes’ mouths, along their gills,
Giving some life, taking some death.

The Voice: You guard the shore?

My Voice: I guard the shore without a mandate,
Motionlessly between two breaths.

The Voice: You’re thus a coastguard, that I see.

My Voice: I am a poet. Words use me.