by Laura Parker Roerden Go to open ocean, I heard, as I had spent too much time struggling on the edges in the surf. There is only one way to climb out of the grave of a riptide; all lifeguards know this. You must swim parallel in deeper water. You must give up the safetyContinue reading “Pelagic Water”
Category Archives: Poetry
The Right Whale
by Laura Parker Roerden I’ve heard tales of how they once came close to Cape Cod by the hundreds, a thick layer of blubber enough to insulate for cold, yet insufficient against spears. When dead, they bobbed on the surface like a cork. Or started to decompose as gases expanded flesh like a bloated Macy’s ThanksgivingContinue reading “The Right Whale”
The Quest
by Laura Parker Roerden You can find just about anything you could dream in an ocean. Tiny horses holding on by prehensile tails to flat vines that float upwards and shimmer in sunlight like cities. Red squid that fly with vampire wings and shoot out light orbs to stun predator or prey. A flat rayContinue reading “The Quest”
An Un-Poem About the Falling Snow
by Laura Parker Roerden 1. I woke up this morning with the phrase, “something uplifting” in my mind, then saw that among the snowfall out my window many snowflakes were rising up on unseen currents. 2. I’m sure a mathematician could help us understand the exact preponderance that falls at a predictable speed to theirContinue reading “An Un-Poem About the Falling Snow”
Humpbacks Feeding
by Laura Parker Roerden We first see the humpbacks at the surface, their mouths ballooning open, unfolding in pleats like a girl’s skirt caught in the wind. Seawater and herring is caught now as soup meeting hunger. There are nine whales, I’m told. Their mouths seem to open up as if the hinge that holdsContinue reading “Humpbacks Feeding”
A Baracuda and Boa
by Laura Parker Roerden I once saw a torpedo of a barracuda rake through a school of fairy basslets, gorging on the smaller fish as if they were kernels of popcorn at a movie. The barracuda was all torque and fang; the fairy basslets a delicate purple and orange, like a fragile glass vase createdContinue reading “A Baracuda and Boa”
The Water Awaits
by Laura Parker Roerden A river of loss can still bring one home to an ocean, where brine buoys and anchors us, as if connected to a larger vessel by a line. A pond in a clearing can mirror our hearts like a palm extended connects to arteries and carries blood from places deep and well hidden.Continue reading “The Water Awaits”
Losing Ground
by Laura Parker Roerden I saw a pair of ducks this afternoon, a male and female mallard. A hard, northwest wind had just begun to bow the smaller pines; clouds were gathering as the sky suddenly became a drop ceiling. A storm was coming down the river. The ducks seemed stalwart against the wind, though youContinue reading “Losing Ground”
The Hinge
by Laura Parker Roerden I love this world. And not just in morning, when the long, dark drug of night opens like a clam to the light. I love the hinge itself that swings back and forth as the tide washes over; an attempt at renewal. I love not just the mighty whale but theContinue reading “The Hinge”
For Cousteau
by Laura Parker Roerden We protect what we love, an explorer once told us. But of what love did he mean? The love for a flower or that of a son? The love for a rock held safe in our palm, or that for a steeple? The love of a farmer for a seed or ofContinue reading “For Cousteau”