Dawn Breaks
Marauder gulls have been here;
broken crosses pock the sand
before the sun burns off the prints.
The moon’s tug tossed the waves
again and again like wet dice,
looking for that lucky roll,
but the sea is unknowable.
Bottomless. It is where God hides
from the long white blankness
on the other side of the pinprick stars.
Sand turrets trickle into dunes
and the wind stings hard with flung grains
but the sea is a secret being kept.
The gulls divebomb and the bubbles break
over and over in a crown of foam.