Another Sunset Poem
O, the simple difficulty of it all—
the way the waves wash away the bulging sun,
the blush of twilight clouds, the crackle of a sandy campfire.
I clasp my hands, gather heat, then trace the ridges
of recently-vacated seashells residing beside my feet.
I investigate their lifetimes.
O, the oyster.
The hermit crab.
The snail, the other snail—
O, the seagull wing,
the pelican beak,
the heron and cormorant.
The scent of seaweed.
O, nature’s ominous drone,
the distant giggle of a distant child
stumbling into the ocean,
sea-salt sting seeping into his skin—
that from a distance, the water is nearly still—
but from close, an ancient chaos:
each breath of foam falling under its own momentum,
knotting and unknotting
time and time and time again—
as if to mean to speak about my memories
of castles and plastic toys—
O, to play on the shore with unwatered eyes. O,
to meet myself again.
Suhrith Bellamkonda is an emerging writer from Mountain View, California. He has contributed to the Blue Marble Review, Poetic Sun, Stanford Anthology, and Cathartic Lit, among others. He self-published his first collection entitled “Castles and Plastic Toys” in August 2021.