Coastal Graveyard in Branford, Connecticut

By Ford, Frank Bernard

The frugal spaces
as if Yankees embraced
the dirt down un-
to them. Above,

salt-scoured markers rippling in
exhaust from DATSUN & McDONALDS.
(We must seem to ripple too
inside the supermarket's window.)

A stone shakes
at the end of vision.

OFF THE COAST OF BRAZIL
we had earlier browsed.
The girl scans barcodes
off our frozen food.

Where water is the jungle,
bronze and green, shrieking
birds of teal-streaked apricot
throng massive heat, drop hushed in
ribbons past the dripping palms.

Through swollen calm,
thence shadowing a dusk-
smoked wave which slides,
an amorist's shoulder.