Island
Somewhere inside my shipwrecked
soul
there should be an island of
calm,
I remember visiting it once.
There was shade underneath the
trees
close to the beach and the sea
slid
up soft and clear over the sand.
All that was else was far away,
the sky was sewn a seamless blue
where it met at the water’s
edge.
The sun was warm, the breeze was
cool,
and the world was at a distance;
no vessels bothered to sail
there.
I was young then, I remember.
I knew nothing then of terror.
David M. Perkins
David M. Perkins’ three poetry
volumes: In From Forever, I May or May Not Love You, and Post-Modern
Blues are available from Ice Cube Press. His poems, reviews, and
essays have appeared in Luminaura, Cæsura, Oziana, Prosetrics, The Wild
Word, Willows Wept Review, Caveat Lector, Christopher Street
Magazine, and for the Wordsworth Trust (UK) among others. Onetime
bookstore owner and former university press publishing professional, he’s
currently owned by a blue-point Siamese cat named Wystan