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Wet
by Tina Carter
for Maisie in memory of Tosca, and for Ocean-dog
Water washes your ankles
sand loosens between your toes
you hope the limitless depth
opens your eyes lets your mind
understand something new
This year the road holds
a stranger a dog
legs braced against
the double yellow crease
eyes wide
ribcage heaving with panic
You pull the car onto the edge
of the forest
step out
A pulse of air
whispers around you
a gift from the ocean
where magic is common
and you call to her
The tide
a series of moments
introducing you to the ocean
does not depend on your awareness
One moment you watch
a drama starring half inch crabs
anemones starfish
while you balance
on slick ankle high boulders
the next your sneakers are soaked
She looks up disbelief
raising her ears
bounds to you tail wagging
panting gratitude
You pull your seat forward
she climbs onto suitcases and
coolers crammed with
the weekend's food Questions
from other passengers
flow off you
As you drive away the salty moment
that rolled over you has
left you dripping
salt crusting your skin
despite velocity
your bare feet are firmly planted
in wave washed sand
Tina Carter's life shifted months ago when she discovered the magic of Billy Collins and Mary Oliver. When not working, enjoying her partner, four animals, and training in and teaching karate, she works on her poetry.
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