Poetry Month – April 25, 2024 – On The Altar


Used to be easy to find
in June
before the renters moved in.
We’d go down to the beach and
Scavenge any new treasure the winter washed up.
We’d check all the beaches,
From Fenway to the Inn.
Sea glass was the favorite find:
bits of tumbled soft glass
glinting in the sand:
and the rare dark blue.
Mom said the blue ones were from milk of magnesia bottles
that seasick solders had to drink to get un-seasick.
We’d imagine them puking over the side of a boat and
the blue bottle flying out of their hands into the stormy,
seasick-making waves.
We collected so many pieces over the years.
Mom put them that big glass vase,
our beautiful, found jewels.
Over the years, we found less and less.
One of the last places that had any bits at all
was Sea Glass beach
Just east of the Spicer place
When that place finally dried up, we’d still walk down
and sift our hands through the pebbles and sand and stones.
It felt good to sit there
It felt good to talk
Or not talk
It felt good.