My Backyard

My backyard consists

of fishing ships and gold shoes

the way waves tumble over the sand

desperate to feel the press of land

a little white and orange dog

that yawns like a wookie and sleeps like a teddy bear

rocks warmed by moss

pebble shapes holes in the beach

a city scape outlined by fog

blackberries tied to bushes

and dewey spider webs

My backyard is full of cliffs and scruffy hair

little brothers with soft tummies

Where I walk the concrete is a little uneven

and step on a crack and you'll break your mother's back

Heron's tip toe by and seals stare at you from

inside the sea

There's sea glass here and out of tune guitars

Hooded sweatshirts lean against the spray painted sea wall

fog rolling out of their mouths

playing scratchy tunes out of blown speakers

Seagulls drag their ankles through tides

and shoes fall in discarded pairs

girls grow up sad and strong

rocked to sleep by crashing waves

and babies breath salted air

In my back yard,

jungles are made of library drop boxes, abandoned blue chairs and hiking gear

people tumble out of buses and into seaweed

Gardeners aren't hard to find

in my back yard

ones without weed wackers and shears

just strings and brushes and dried up pens

Ones who always let the dandelions grow

and walk along the edges of the sea