A Letter from the Coast
All afternoon the town readied for storm,
   men in the harbor shallows hauling in small boats
      that rise and fall on the tide. Pleasure,

one by our house is called. I didn't think
   the single man who tugged her in could manage
      alone, though he pushed her up high enough,

he must have hoped, to miss the evening's
   predicted weather: a huge freight of rain
      tumbling up the coast. There's another storm

in town, too, a veritable cyclone
   of gowns and wigs: men in dresses here for a week
      of living the dream of crossing over.

All afternoon they braved the avenue
   fronting the harbor, hats set against the wind,
...