What we
can measure
we think we understand:
ratio
of sand to sea,
height
of wave to base,
depth
of sediment.
Helpless
barrier islands,
narrow strips
of sand,
fighting
a seething sea.
What we
can count,
we think we can save:
bodies drowned,
houses demolished,
but not the sound
of wind—
heaving and groaning,
sand migrating
down the coast,
changing shape
unrecognizably,
how layers of mud,
shells,
dead grasses
scatter
on flattened dunes—
a hazy salty air
lingering
over us,
the coast rambling,
without measure,
out to sea.
Susan Bucci Mockler's work has appeared in Poet Lore, Crab Orchard Review, The Northern Virginia Review, The Delmarva Review, The Cortland Review, and the anthology My Cruel Invention. Her chapbook, Noisy Souls, was published by Finishing Line Press in 2010. She was a finalist in the 2016 Moving Words contest, is a poet in the Arlington County school system, and teaches writing and literature at a local universities. She lives in Arlington, VA.