Driftwood Etude
by Tracy and Rebeca Thomas
The owls of the surf are watching you
They’re watching the way you undo your hair
The way your hair undoes you
Now you’re undone in the surf like
Sea foam tearing away from the earth
Unbound, unwound
The salty sweet air on the tongue
peeling away your layers, one by one as if
There’s no bottom to anything
But those owls of the surf
They think they’re so wise
They’re made of the pins that fall
from your hair undone
The echo of empty attics where marigolds
still try to grow
Where voices are hushed for no reason
When you talk to me in one of those voices
You make me remember forever
You peel open a moment like a tent pitched
in the mists of spindrift
All swirled with the spectra of us
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