RIPPLES, 1978 by Kevin Casey


by Kevin Casey


From a beach towel radio, a Bee Gees’ song
resonates along the shore, its echoes pressing
on the margins of the summer that contains it,
and a single season swells to half a lifetime.


My hair is blond as straw, the water
lapping my shins as I shuffle across
the corrugated sand, looking through
the billowing mirror for crabs and starfish.


Ripples tighten as they reach the shore,
each wave cresting quicker, rising lower
as the tide recedes. But back toward
the deeper water, that summer stretches
endlessly, blending into the horizon.

Kevin_CaseyKevin Casey has contributed poems to recent editions of Green Hills Literary Lantern, Kentucky Review, decomP, and other publications. His new chapbook The wind considers everything— was recently published by Flutter Press. Another chapbook, from Red Dashboard, is due out later this year.

Image credit: Stewart Baird on Flickr


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