SPEAKING TO US

On the upper lip
of wanting love

and favors
toward evening

yet devoted
to the winds off

the Cape's water
in your orange kayak

you plunge quickly
into the high September surf

with a wave
toward the tremor

of a shark nearby
you paddle with prayers

that encircle you
holding onto the reeds

of marsh and mind
stretched out on the beach

after the holiday showers
happy as a beggar poet

with flesh
on baby skin, bones, cheeks

unscathed
by vanity.