Galveston Gaze

The Gulf turns, muddy,
brown tide rushes
rocking chair rhythm,
back and forth
that never ends.
Infinity’s in the waves,
they go on and on,
the surging sound of swells,
mix with childhood dreams,
diving headlong into surf,
the deep bears down,
as I tumble to surface.
The sea watches on,
like God, never sleeps,
seeing me on the Wall,
knows salt burns.
Looking out on the
distant lights of oil rigs blink,
take a step back,
I fear being dragged in.

Carl Wade Thompson is a poet and graduate programs writing tutor for Texas Wesleyan University. His work has appeared in Concho River Review, The Mayo Review, The Enigmatist, Sheepshead Review, and Labor: Studies in Working-Class History of the Americas.

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One Response to Galveston Gaze

  1. J. Whitehead says:

    Outstanding poem…beautiful words!

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