Blue bay (a sonnet)
It's funny how you're blue today I'm green, of course, with a brine-weed crown You're seashore sky and breaststroke bay My toes are fins and my skin's burned brown Here's the rock, where we made a vow Clasping hands with a starfish cling We'd keep all the barnacles off of the prow I'd love you by... Sign in to see full entry.