Some Places So High, by Shannon Lise

Natural Arch at Capri, by William Stanley Haseltine (USA). 1871.

Some Places So High

that ships in the sea
are like tiny white water birds
dwarfed by carven cliffs.

I should have liked
to bring you here

to clamber up
through brave patches of mossy grass
creviced in red rock

to watch our great shadows
dancing together

and to laugh at the ships
dreaming of gold and spices.

I could have talked to you
about what seeing is like, from up here

converting colours into hard gems of words
for you,

working carefully
until all the bloom of this red and blue world
burst in upon the graves behind your eyes –

slate pink horizon
dusted in distant shores and deepening
in the shadowed turquoise of these our waters

rust bright rocks stacked to rival Babel
rising to mighty arches –

I could have taught you the magic of the world
through the kiss of sea breezes
shivering so high above the surf

through the feel of stone
warmed in lingering sunlight

through the sound of baby waves
flirting with slippery crab-infested roots of the cliff

and laughing, as all the world laughs,
at the little white birds on the sea.

Perhaps, if you had come to visit,
if I had found a way

to lead you to the edge and paint the shades
of ocean in your brain –
perhaps you would not have jumped.

Shannon Lise

Originally from Texas, Shannon Lise spent twelve years in the Middle East and currently lives in Québec. Her first poetry collection is underway and recent work has appeared in or is forthcoming from Sunlight Press, Ink in Thirds, Eunoia Review and Red Eft Review. She also writes epic fantasy realism (Keeper of Nimrah, 2014).