Two Poems
Eric Swedberg
Swedberg Page 1
[Listen to readings of these poems.]

Where the water meets the sun

Off, dips sun into the water,
A floating line of oranges, roses, blue steel.

The women have a dance
To wish the fishermen home during rough trips.

The men now have gear to watch this dance,
The dance they shouldn't see,
Looking through holes in slant tin hats,
They crouch on white sand, cool, safe,

Women feigning sadness, hoping . . . for full boats
Empty boats,
Reasons to dance on the beach.

The Sea?

There . . . that's the sea.
I tell you it is.

Waves, segments of sidewalks,
fish, tides, boats, routes . . .

mysteries, things known, surprises . . .


Real . . . yes, drowning,
treading for hours with sharks,
sunny beaches, relaxed,
changing edges, currents, Coriolis force,
drop-offs, underwater mountains.