Sonny at the Edge

Sonny thought around rough
edges to note discrepancies…
watched the progression
of a wasp without antennae
navigate a window latch…
watched hermit crabs
lug their conic shells on
rubbery fronds of kelp.

He’d count the seconds between
cresting of gray-green waves…
stride their white frothed edges
then recoil as churning wash
pulled at his skinny legs.

With driftwood wands…
one morning…he gouged
a labyrinth of squares
then crouched in its center
expressionless…a sphinx…
gazing at hissing breakers
as they advanced…inexorable
to breach his frailty.

Bonnie Marshall

Artwork by John Cox

6 thoughts on “Sonny at the Edge

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