"Saint George Island Lies" - Gregory de Rocher


Saint George Island lies
south of the Florida Panhandle's coast, where
the incoming waves arrive from a distant vanishing point.
It is a place of pure loss: gulls winging their way to it
disappear.

Somewhere out there trawls the Brenda Darlene,
hoisting her nets like wet green skirts,
coaxing drowned seamen back to life; She even seems to be
sharing this unbelievable moment with the binocular sentinel, who
frozen and therefore motionless on Saint George Island's only jetty, 
wants more than anything to believe it is finally and indeed She

he is holding fast against his retinae.
When he is almost certain his catch is binding,
the pawl suddenly shatters, the ratchet wheel spins wildly, and, 
once again, all is lost.

Many are the sentinels who, overlooking the multicolored shells
lying, shameless, along this never-ending shoreline,
choose, rather, to post themselves on this lonely jetty
in the hopes that sometime soon they too might be fortunate enough
to catch a glimpse of the Brenda Darlene.


Gregory de Rocher, remembering Richard Lockwood, 1951-2005

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