Cape Neddick | Poetry

Talin Tahajian

From this angle, the geese look like they’re making one straight line. The same grey borzoi flickers against the shoreline, saint of New England candlewick. Another dog moves like a white spirit of the water. His red ball is caught because it’s thrown. Then the soot goes up. The tide abandons what it leaves, I think, being as usual wrong. I pick up two clamshells, one with a perfect hole...