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Now Is the Cool of the DayMaureen N. McLane
Vol. 42 No. 13 · 2 July 2020

Now Is the Cool of the Day

Maureen N. McLane

249 words

From here you used to see the sea.
The gulls still palaver the fishing boats still eke
out what they can. At dusk the Eastern Point Light
every five seconds flashes white,
the Dog Bar Light shines occulting red,
the Ten Pound Island
every six seconds blinks isophase red.
These are their characteristics.
So many beaches reefs and shoals
named for woes then woes effaced
like your footprint just now in wet sand.

You’ve only begun to learn the high tides
and low               the two of each
a day. By day I mean
also night. By night I mean the soft blank
I used to be too shy to go swimming in.
There are drowning children
and one must try to save them.
So she thought one thinks
and died trying. The old ways
of being a person have their hold
on me and I move in the wake
of baleful ships and a very few gods.

I want to find something to believe in
the young poet said, beautiful
vegan and scowling. It’s disgusting
this posthumous stance I adopt
some days and some days it’s thrust
upon me, unwanted vestiture. She is only as beautiful as ever
another poet ‘ageing splendidly’
with her delicate gold jewellery and avant clothes.
She grew up three towns away
from Donna Karan who is still alive.
Yes I said to the student
who wanted to analyse the fashion system
in Swift. There’s no end
to beauty and shit.

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