I sit at the water’s edge,
draw circles in the sand.
It was almost too civil. Last night
we walked down the beach
to the crab shack,
tied bibs around our necks,
and over a bucket of clams and corn
decided who got what.
Circles, short-lived in the tide,
my wedding ring in the dresser drawer.
Sarah Russell
First published in Red Eft Review
Image source
Sarah Russell Poetry 
Very poignant.
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Thank you.
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touching and so sad
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Thanks, Beth.
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A great example of less-is-more. Beautifully balanced and precise.
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Thanks very much, Dave. High praise!
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So much is unsaid yet reveals a lot. Thanks for joining in Sarah.
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Thanks, Grace. Late getting to everyone’s poetry this week. We had a minor fire… Everything’s OK, but it did set me back. This weekend…
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Sometimes what we thought was a perfect fit doesn’t fit any more! Very short lived indeed! Well done!
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Thank you, Dwight. You’re right about “perfect fits.”
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circles in the sand says so much here
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Thanks very much. Less is more…
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Was this an erasure poem? Magnificent response if it was for the prompt, or not: So much said for what wedding rings encircle, what they cannot.
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Brendan, I didn’t know there was a prompt, and no, it isn’t erasure. Just for Open Link night. And thank you!
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Nice description of a separation as dividing who gets what, rather than sharing, at a meal.
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Oooo, thanks, Frank. I hadn’t seen that. I love it when people see things that I didn’t when I wrote the poem!
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“Circles short-lived in the tide,” speaks volumes! Such an evocative write.
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Thank you, Sanaa.
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I like the play on circles and ring, Sarah, the civility of the bucket of clams and corn and the possible regret in the dresser drawer.
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Thanks, Kim.
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Breviloquent! You tell a huge story in a small package, with room for details like “a bucket of clams and corn”. Wow. This is great.
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Thank you, Mish. Most of my poems are short. Some editors say too short. Others like them. Go figure…
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I love the movement in this where the last line is like a sad revelation that also rips the previous stanzas wide open… a memory? a new lover?… so much is not said.
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Thanks a lot, Bjorn. I try to follow Joan Didion’s idea that the last lines of a story or poem should open a door to a whole new story. I don’t always succeed, but it’s worth trying every time.
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Those last two lines a story in itself. (K)
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Thanks so much, Kerfe.
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