10/23/2013

The beloved becoming
a heap of cold sand.
This is the part where seabirds
sound like a murder. Where the waves
are nervous hands.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

I was walking down a desolate stretch of beach with a friend in Puntarenas, a port town that feels like a Graham Greene setting–elegantly decaying & a little dangerous, like making small talk at a cocktail party with someone who might be hiding a knife under a threadbare velvet jacket. Birds screamed overhead, I was thinking about how easily love ends, and this poem arrived like a little gift.

BIO:

Kate Angus is a founding editor of Augury Books. Her work has appeared in Indiana Review, Subtropics, Verse Daily, Best New Poets 2010 and 2014 and others. She is the recipient of A Room of Her Own Foundation’s Orlando Prize for Creative Nonfiction.
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