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At Work Near the Pacific
by
Grace Hughes Chappell


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the cold immeasurable water
is a blue lamé
seduction slipped over the noontime sea
and the water lies uncut against the shore,
a whole piece.
From my table I watch the rock islands
like buoys anchored there in the light, and
I pick at my nails.
Drake sailed on a blue journey once—
it was summer—past our whitened shore,
our hills, our heat mounding up
colossi of fog beyond exploring
beyond climbing, and
his crew idled, too, and drowsed,
the interior slipping past. 
 
© by Grace Hughes Chappell.
Used with the author’s permission.
 
Purchase a framed print of this poem.

Grace Hughes Chappell lives in San Francisco. She and her husband  also tend a garden and apple orchard in Mendocino County, California. She’s had work published in the Sunday SF Chronicle, the Anderson Valley Advertiser, theRichmond ReView, Short Fiction by Women, and various others.


New comments are closed for now.
Jo:
Beautiful poem.
Posted 01/27/2013 01:20 PM
lisa honecker:
seductive and starved simultaneously--images clear.
Posted 01/27/2013 11:58 AM
wordsmith:
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful!
Posted 01/27/2013 09:34 AM
KevinArnold:
Wonderful work, rich with surprise.
Posted 01/27/2013 09:28 AM
Janet Leahy:
A meditative piece, exquisite language, lovely to reread and be wrapped in the calm of the poem.
Posted 01/27/2013 08:46 AM


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