ocean
life is as long as life will be,
there is a way appreciation deepens
when you put an edge at the end,
like how the ocean finds the slant
of the shore a stopping place,
existing out from that edge,
backwards, to a great wide middle.
every purple jellyfish, each jeweled
crustacean, a navy whale, schools of
sparkling fish caught in silvery slats
of watery sunlight, all so very alive
in that inky black.
because you have not been does not
mean heaven does not exist,
its wavering potential, its dream/shift
current, a universe beyond the one
you’re in each day. is there a chance,
even if your feet can’t touch, you could
still feel a sense of safety? could you
believe there’s care that is as deep as
the dark water goes?
Erin Pesut studied writing at Warren Wilson College and earned her MFA in fiction from Columbia University. Her writing has appeared in Chautauqua, Cleaver, Camas, Colorado Review, and Copper Nickel, among other places. Born in South Carolina, she now lives in Vermont where she is currently at work on her first poetry collection. www.erinpesut.com
Amethyst Review 