Poem: Iconoclast

You purchase her art
since it’s all you can have
of her, for now.
Her skin
thick with sea salt
can’t be shared
and you’d be lying to say
you remember enough of her laugh
to make hymns of it in your head
but her photography
can be hung on your wall
as a reminder
of what it is to pray.

The caller of seers
grinning and skinning
has but one chair
preferring to sit alone
until the tides are right at Montauk
and Moses enjoys his beach.

This article appears in July 2017 Issue.