Waves of neurasthenic wonder
crash against imagined shore;
frazzled edge of decade’s plunder
leaves me hollowed out & sore.
This is not the light of healing:
praying to the gods of sin
soon exposes bitter feelings
& the fickle mood I’m in.
So, I wander out toward danger
heeding not the mask of morning,
being a familiar stranger,
leading to small craft warning.
Lighthouse guides me back to easy,
churning knots of distant past:
lovesick, seasick, heart-based queasy,
red sky at dawn won’t always last.
Deliver me Neptune’s pardon,
still the sea with Triton’s shell,
soothe with thoughts of Adam’s garden,
back, before the whole world fell.
Gary Glauber is a poet, fiction writer, and teacher. His works have received multiple Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net nominations. His two collections, Small Consolations (Aldrich Press) and Worth the Candle (Five Oaks Press) and a chapbook Memory Marries Desire (Finishing Line Press) are available through Amazon.