Imagine waking up without the sound of seagulls,
Without the sea breeze, with no bright autumn light
To make us blink our eyes.
Instead, we looked outside and saw
Green murky waters, fishes swimming by,
Seaweed streaming from the lampposts.
Lost in our own Sargasso Sea, we swam from house
To house, commiserating with our neighbours.
Clift couldn't find the low notes on his silver saxophone;
He was busy blowing bubbles, not the blues.
Monique made do with scuba-diving, since the surf
Was far too far above her head for surfing.
Rosemary's garden grew with cockleshells and clams,
Crustaceans and pink coral fans.
Axel offered us jellyfish jam and octopus preserves.
But here's what really happens—
Every dawn this sunken island rises from the depths,
Shining like a pearl in the fog, no less a miracle
For its dependability. We are the lucky denizens
Who live and breathe in such surroundings.
©2016 Michael Fraley
Back to Poem-O-Rama