Thursday, 5 July 2012


The IV goes in

around the time the bottom

drops out. You’ve seen it,

and you can do nothing for it

but go with the flow.

Your reserves drain into the sand.

Never one to become

habituated to panic

you lose it before you remember

to let go.

But it’s not too late, darling, to lay back

your head and drift

to the sign of the sea,

then parallel to home

until riding the waves free.

It’s so easy for you, she said,

so hard and dry, with beak and claw in crust.

But only when she said, This is what

is called a complication

did I feel myself go under.

© Mark Kerstetter

Woman dies after riptide drags family offshore in Pass-a-Grille

Mark Kerstetter lives in Florida where he is a regular beach bum June through October. His poems have appeared in Evergreen Review, Connotation Press, Unlikely 2.0 and other journals. He blogs as The Bricoleur.