near the waterline, someone’s hammering
throughout the day, someone’s always
hammering

a staccato telegraph
of winter’s approach or gratitude
so little demands repair
or just some old goat’s survived

though when the hammering ceases
he may be eating a sandwich
or sawing a board to be hammered
yes, two taps secure its position

in the quiet, he’s
gone off to the supply house
for a another box of nails, another size
a door slams from another direction
where new hammering erupts

before the man puts his hammer down
on a leather tool belt
and then orders a beer

you’ll find boxes of hammering
in the tool shed, brown paper bags
of hammering in the mud room
old jars of hammering
on his truck bed

open any one
and his arm and shoulder
begin moving
the whole world as his anvil

Poem copyright 2016 by Jnana Hodson
To see the full set of seacoast poems, click here.

1

what if the tide never turns
but waits to be submerged
in the next high tide
one after another until
the whole city is inundated?

sailboats would go under
on their moorings, perhaps still
rocking mostly one side
from perpendicular

the wharf and its autos
would mean nothing
while the moon ignores her orbit

2

masts sway
like speedometers

or gauges
missing their dials

3

a whirlpool, however large or compact
swirls within myriad currents
that knit the harbor

some talk of changing public opinion
or the incumbent party
but don’t reckon the vortex
swimmers approach
laughing to each other

any remorse
over their drowning
will ring hollow

3

while ducktrap is a fish
a store touts its Ducktrap Decoy

whether for some waterfowl or the fish
lingers in question

awaiting a retort
from Daffy, Donald, or Daisy

as for the fish? only silent
disdain

Poem copyright 2016 by Jnana Hodson
To see the full set of seacoast poems, click here.