Slim Volumes
Fulford
The departing ferry washes my thighs.
Its wake propagates slowly to the shore
where I sit on a gentle slope of sand
reclining between chill ocean
and grit of white crushed shells
that whisper with each ebb.
The Rider Waite deck shows
the Magician
one hand raised to the sky,
the other down,
pointing to the extremes of our nature,
the mind and body given equal place
and equal merit in a rounded life.
So now between the water and the land,
skin heated by the air
and chilled by brine,
I contemplate
my absence from this world.
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