Monday's Poem

Lisa Shatzky's poetry has appeared in magazines, chapbooks, and anthologies across Canada and in some parts of the U.S. Most recently, her poetry has been accepted for publication in Canadian Literature, Canadian Woman Studies, and The Nashwaak Review, and has been published in Jones Ave., The Prairie Journal, The Antigonish Review, The Dalhousie Review, Canadian Woman Studie, Insights, Cahoots
, Quills Canadian Poetry Magazine, and Between the Sheets. When not writing, she works as a psychotherapist on Bowen Island, B.C. Full time poet, part time therapist...

© Lisa Shatzky 2009

Sunset Kayak

take me to the far edges
of what is known, then push me further
until frightened and awake I fall
into a purple yawning sky just to feel
your arms around me.

Kayak, vessel of sand and flame
my body, gold salt
we are one
dreaming of fish
huge moving fish through waters
below the surface.
(Sometimes I touch them. Sometimes they kiss my fingers.)

At dusk what we know
is reversed
such loveliness made of nothing.
Outbursts of rocks
and moss and islands
I have yet to explore.
The shadows of my shadow
spill themselves again in perfect
and diminishing light.
But the roaming moon

does not forget me.
A bright and bold kumquat
pouring in and I
can never resist.
Seals and starfish and blue herons,
forgive me for turning away.
Here in the oracle of darkness,
starlight is my only faith,
and the moon
my oldest lover.