NACE EL FUEGO

~After reading “It Is Born,” by Pablo Neruda

I have consulted his poems about the sea
to dampen the dust of my dry yearning,
but even here a fire is born. I am left
thirsty for blue, for air whetted with salt.

Where is the hidden cove with its
sea glass treasures, the gulls afloat
on evening’s wind? The soul
conspires to meet me there,

but the body, weighted by entropy,
its possessions, the accoutrements
of age, cannot be moved so fettered
by its limitations.

Marilyn Ringer

from, Island Aubade, Finishing Line Press, 2012

P.O. Box 1626

Georgetown, Kentucky 40324