A Handful of Sand
you walk into the bay
without a backward look
or word of goodbye
each wave captures
part of you
buries it in salt
sucks your skin
into the width of grey
and I watch you
do this last thing perfectly
taking each serene step
until your head
blurs, diminishes
and I hold a handful of sand
without you
~ Joanna M. Weston
Joanna M. Weston has had poetry, reviews, and short stories published in anthologies and journals for twenty years. She has two middle-readers, The Willow Tree Girl and Those Blue Shoes; also A Summer Father, poetry, published by Frontenac House of Calgary, all in print.
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