Month: February 2017

Jura, Ardbeg… uisce

Tonight

two new whiskys

crossed my palate. 

Smokey,

peaty,

complex…

I risk

hyperbole,

but,

while they lingered

on the tongue

I felt so much closer

to myself. 

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In the school

I see the sharks

but they

don’t seem

to notice me. 

I am not thrashing

or stirring up

the water. 

I am not

meekly hiding,

either. 

I am flagrant

and unconcerned. 

They are busy

and I am

too small a fish

for frying. 

So I cruise past

their strobing lights 

and continue on

defiant. 

I am Tacoma

They want

a laureate…

they want to know

how one would represent

this city. 

Well,

I would have to say:

I am Tacoma.

I have always been

Tacoma. 

I have been

Tacoma

while navigating the maze

of Londons underground,

I have been Tacoma 

while wandering

the cathedral

of Durham

and making the narrow drive

to Lindasfarne. 

I was Tacoma

while strolling the Royal Mile 

in Edinburgh. 

I sang Tacoma 

across the lowlands

of Scotland

on route

to Ireland. 

I dreamt Tacoma

from a flat

in Ranelagh.

I carried Tacoma

as I fell in love

with an Irish girl,

and I was Tacoma

as I said the vows 

in St. Paul’s,

a stones throw

from her childhood home. 

I am Tacoma,

and now my young son,

and our relocated family,

are Tacoma too.