Tamara Kaye Sellman >

 

Child's Daydream

gleaming rivulets etch
crooked rain pickets
down the picture window
only to morphose
to liquid embroidery
on clear days
lost to wind
only then can I see
the Port of Astoria

its focused bustle of folk
and mercantile
leaves only me
to witness
the sudden migration
dark pods
dip and plunge
trailing inflorescence
even in sunlight




Clam Season

kettled clams purge grit
in baking soda stew
enough for chowder

for almost all of us tonight
afterward, the lick of the pot
goes home with Oren

his ailing mother will give that soft,
closed-eyes smile after a sip,
forgetting her milk problem

 


February Ferry Ride

coos and giggles from the back
seat—one girl chews
a smiling otter's nose
the other squeaks
soles of yellow boots
a tribute to puddles

the world cannot really ever be
gray

 


On the Development of Clouds

they pile over mountains
like wrestling children,

determined to pin us with rain
while others puff away

from playful fray to try on
other contact sports

 


Outing in Seattle

you tip the oilskin against curled
crown, batten down leather ties,

presume the color of rain channeling
off the back of your hat, grinning

quietly at wind-blown umbrellas
and their miserable underside faces