House at the shore

Last seen on a distant honeymoon
when revanchist clouds threw down
their torrents of praise
acknowledged by the ocean-hurled
waves whose crests snapped the shore

Well-timed storm!
To wash away whatever could clog a marriage

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Much earlier came my first view, one bridge
and three highways away from an average childhood
we peered into empty hope-laden shelves

Stair treads so soft, suspended in white
stairwell light like the froth on the sand

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Later, eight plodding feet on a hard
beach into Rehoboth
The weed stronger than I and probably stronger
than any of us had thought
The town shimmering with us,
so starved we wolfed pizza beyond count

Then throbbing back, stomachs beyond digestion, still
stoned and silent to the house at the shore
My mother unveiled the special
spaghetti sauce bustled all day for us

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Neighbors asleep
a sliver of moonlight pulling a purloined dory
we whisper even in the center
of a pond that’s dialoguing with the oars

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Another year, a suggestive morning
Rooms of suave ruled notepads
ripe for writing

Dawn onto fresh words