To Red Rock Beach
I don’t think you notice. As if a fog about us—you tell me about loss,
moving forward, a long slow cold and distance, ex-wife’s want to make things
better, your that it never was, and could not be. We turn together to this
passage. After examining the white trail that steeps up and over, the
uncertain flatter lower rocks with unknowable distances between serrated
edges, we slow toward the low. Where goat-like I used to find small places
for my hands and feet, projecting forward lithely, I now falter. Over and
over you reach a hand to steady me.
Anne F. Walker’s poetry has won Eisner Prizes at UC Berkeley and Canada Council Arts Grants, among other honors. She completed doctoral work at the University of California, Berkeley and is an Assistant Professor at Holy Names University in Oakland, California. These 100-word prose poems concentrate attention on precision of image, narrative, and language.