Driftwood

She
alone, quiet
with coastal roads,
thoughts like bird calls.
 
bag hitched on her
shoulder, she looks like sand,
wisped together with sea -
wind and shell grains.
 
grasses blow one way
on the dune, she blows many
ways, north south east west,
many ways, not on the compass
pinned to her jeans.

karenajoan
​1987