The Innisfree Poetry Journal

www.innisfreepoetry.org

by Dave Seter

Sentries Among Broken Rock

When the wind blows hard here angels take cover.

Maybe that's how you came to me, through cracks

in these former barracks walls where I trace knots

and gnarls and write my poems. Tonight, the moon

strikes the ocean until it gleams like a shield.

The sergeants and corporals are gone, but artists

take their place as sentries among this broken rock.

I wasn't built for war, or to agitate peace.

I'm strictly a dreamer of clouds and comets,

but science has let me down, unable to predict orbits.

Tonight winter overtakes the willows and washes away

their gowns, our syllables. I don't doubt

the slingshot force of the Universe. Written into

the sky, we circle —but never really speak —you and I.