Sandy Jack

Sandy Jack Jack Bell Ricciardella, October 29, 2012

The earth moves on some new axis
this morning, New York turns its shoulder
 into the Atlantic to brace for storm
surges, risen tides, cyclonic rotating
shifts and millions wake nervously to
another red sky, alder coinage whirling
to plate the roads in gold, and anticipation.

 And long before the sun thinks
to peek at the Pacific, a stretcher
 carries you, still a mystery, a planet
in his own universe, toward the knife.
Synchopated hearts, three, echo in
the waking dreams of generations gone
and yet to come and invite you to turn.

The waters churn and cascade,
the wind begins to scream with sheer joy
being freed to rage and dance and you
freed too from this sack of creation
come out kicking and screaming with
fear and excitement for all that is yet to be.