When the water from an ocean wave stops reaching
towards the shore and is not yet moving back to the sea,
a small stillness like a door glistens on the wet sand,
then disappears. A wooden door with green slats, a brass knob
that won’t turn. I keep sensing
the signs—
the coconut palms as I walk beneath them,
the wind-whip through their fronds
like someone rummaging frantically
through a cluttered drawer. And the hibiscus blossoms
in red alarm, bells for forests burning.
—
Sally Bliumis-Dunn is Associate Editor-at-Large and features writer for PLUME, and teaches the Personal Essay at the 92nd Street Y in NYC. Her poems have appeared in 32 Poems, New Ohio Review, On the Seawall, The Paris Review, PLUME, Poetry London, Prairie Schooner, the NYT, PBS NewsHour, upstreet, The Writer’s Almanac, Academy of American Poets’ Poem-a-day, and Ted Kooser’s column, among others. In 2002, she was a finalist for the Nimrod/Hardman Pablo Neruda Prize. Her third full-length collection, Echolocation, was published by Plume Editions/Madhat Press in March 2018 and was a finalist for the Eric Hoffer Award as well as the Julie Suk Award.
