I copied letters, pages of letters
a boy in a house near a curving beach
kneeling on the floor beside the bookcase
as if in prayer hunched over lined paper
glasses slipping down nose, tongue teeth biting
before summer’s screen door opened for me.

I slipped through the cracks between the letters
out of the corner and into the world
strung with the meaning of words lettered formed
strung on the white silence of my life’s page.

Letters drawn by children on a curved beach
with sticks and dragging heels who loved and played
then came a wave washed the letters away
in susurrus roar into the moon tide
where children trace letters –

They sleep.  They dream.

Portland, Oregon – April 24, 2016