At each arrival the sand grains wave-turned
and burning quartz-light unsettle their spirals
a thousand golden beetles frittering
out a slant of afternoon
telescoped
at blue removes
a great glass eye blinks back
the ruin folds its dingy wings and slinks
saint-like and small between bewilderments
of mist
behind the lighthouse
another
lighthouse beyond which the mind lights at last
on nothing
out there aches of winter’s touch
that plain the dead traverse by froth
and hush
the old Atlantic hauls its tongue
and flutters up the speech-slicked stones one word
flung from its beginning
something like home
Nathan Manley is a writer and former teacher from Loveland, Colorado. He is the author of one chapbook, Numina Loci (2018, Mighty Rogue Press). His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Think, Natural Bridge, Canary, Spillway, Split Rock Review, Plainsongs, and others. His work has also been nominated for Best of the Net. You can find his writing and instrumental music at nathanmmanley.com