Selected
Poems

Wave Riding at Punta San Carlos 

I salt my hands with ocean, every day
a different hue or pattern, find the lips
of waves unbroken, then breaking, I flip
my hair in liquid smoke beneath the play
of pelicans, make seaweed my bouquet 
until the fog swirls like unwritten scripts
for love, until the moon silvers in strips
and curls on ink beneath the Milky Way.

I towel my breasts beneath Orion’s shield
and dry my thighs in wind-tossed color, wind
my hair in night.  The mist and desert land
are one.  I dream I’m chased by someone wild,
then held.  I want it all—the rocks, the wind,
the broken waves—to be my lover’s hands. 

published in The Main Street Rag