Poems

Libby Sommer: Between the Islands of the Pacific

Between the Islands of the Pacific   Because by now we know everything is not so blue out here.   The cities had tipped rubbish into the sea, and we let them without even noticing.   Not even feeling our breathing clear as gusts reaching ten knots cleaned up our days.   Not even. Today pure blue sky, blue sea, out there the horizon drawing a line below the clouds, the absoluteness of it. Nights of diesel engines shuddering beneath us.   We lounge on chairs side by side on the deck. At dusk, we stand at the railing of…

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