Satch Poem by J. Barrett Wolf
Satch
[For Ginnie’s old man…Satch Sanders]
He walks
Not on
But like
The water.
Washing up on guests
With the inevitability of tide.
In his presence we are
Clumsy creatures
Unfamiliar with our bulk.
He is a tall sea
With weather all his own
Driftwood arms
Rolling waves of leg
A liquid saunter reminding us
We are mute coral
Longing to glide in the dark.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
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5/2/2024 10:05:25 AM # 1.0.0.1119
J. Barrett Wolf... I don't often look see in now, but 'washing up on guest' tis better than Zen by the Dozen... so enjoyed your imagery around Satch, undoubtedly an amazing person that you have the pleasure to enjoy and 'mortiphy' through poetry.