Sault Ste. Marie
Too often you see yourself and wonder
which bodies ancestors navigated
to gather such glorious scars and wrinkles
in one place, both noticeable and unseen,
little waves in a great lake of flesh.
The mirror is not unkind, you think,
with proper lighting — in candlelight
or late evening’s peppery glow,
after a few drinks. Then you recall
crossing the equator three decades
past, how the deck’s non-skid surface
scratched your knees as you scrubbed
the twists and currents that’d buffeted
you to that imagined line on the globe,
and later, the following points and clock
faces withering down the long queue
of jobs, the spilled beer and incomplete life
sentences. Even now, Superior washes
through its locks, filling, denying, allowing
one’s depths into another’s space with equal
regard, promoting passage, flooding past with
future, present with then, balancing tomorrow, now.
“Sault Ste. Marie” won LCk Publishing’s Spring Poetry Contest in April 2017.
I love your definition of wrinkles! “…little waves on an ocean of flesh!” Very cool!
Dwight
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It’s a little rough to surf… 🙂
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A little Botox will solve that!!
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Ha!
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A perfect extended metaphor. Congratulations on your award. Well deserved!
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Thank you, Sarah.
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This captures the fatigue of the grind for me: and later, the following points and clock faces withering down the long queue
of jobs, the spilled beer and incomplete life sentences. Even now, Superior washes
So good. Congrats on winning the contest.
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Thank you. This was a fun one to write. The first line and title came to me at about the same time, and I went exploring…
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Congratulation on the award, Robert. Well-deserved!
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Thank you, Merril.
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I’m from the Sault, this describes growing up to a T! Love It!
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I’m so pleased you liked it. Thank you!
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an exceptional read
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Thank you, Janice. Much appreciated.
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‘E’ missing alert! This is beautiful – but your title is missing an ‘e.’ Sault Ste. Marie was my father’s hometown. He was born in Garden River, one of the Reserves flanking The Soo.
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Ack! Fixed. Thank you, Anna Marie.
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Some playful wordiness here, Bob. Congrats on the award.
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Thanks, Ken. Writing this was fun.
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I can smell the ocean air and see hope in your eyes. Fabulous Sir 😊
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Thank you, Diana!
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Your poetry invites pauses, reflection, rereading for it is that important.
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You’ve made my day, Bonnie. Thank you!
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Wonderful, Bob! “spilled beer snd incomplete life sentences”!
~ Clyde Long via mobile device ~
>
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Life’s little ironies, Clyde! 😃
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Ah, ‘the incomplete life sentences …’. How beautifully and ironically you capture life’s essence. Thank you.
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Oh, the stories of our lives! So much resides in incompleteness…
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A beautiful perspective on time and aging, and also on the equanimity of the ageless. I lived near Superior for 9 years, so that last image feels particularly resonant for me — though I can certainly relate to the rest. 🙂
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Thanks, Cate. I seem to dwell more on time and aging these days. Hmm. I wonder why…
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Is there some recollection of your time in the merchant Navy filling the bowels of this poem?
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There’s a little bit of my Navy life drifting through…it wasn’t the merchant Navy, but the military one. As you can imagine, I was not particularly well suited to that life.
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Dunno why i thought merchant. Can’t see you being truculent or hitting a big red button to launch missiles.
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Oh, I could be quite truculent in those days. I prefer to think things through nowadays, and am much slower to react, except on those rare occasions.
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What made you join?
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A long story, but it was the life I’d known – my dad was a career soldier, and I didn’t know what else I could do. I was just beginning to have the faintest glimmer of intellectual curiosity, and wasn’t terribly introspective.
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Makes sense. Do you think it had an influence on making you who you are? As in, you saw a side of yourself you could have been & had the foresight to veer off?
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Most definitely. It gave me insight into who and what I was, and pointed me away from certain things and toward others. An interesting time.
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My home town! In Michigan.
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I’ve passed through a few times, but have never spent time there. Perhaps one day.
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Congratulations Robert, a thoroughly deserved award, for an extremely great poem. I shall celebrate for you tonight, with two glasses of Hanwood Tawny Port, one for me, and one for you, hmmm, they’re reasonably big glasses !!
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Cheers!
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Drinking your glass now, clink, clink and cheers to you…
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Ah, I can almost taste it. Thanks, Ivor!
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Our bodies are a map of where we’ve been, not where we’re going. Just thought of that, stimulated by your interesting poem!
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I suppose our bodies know where they’ll eventually end, but we won’t talk about that. 🙂
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Er, weather’s been nice today … 🙂
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Then we’re good!
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