3 Hours at Cape Hatteras, a poem by John Hansen at Spillwords.com

3 Hours at Cape Hatteras

3 Hours at Cape Hatteras

written by: John Hansen

 

My father pissed behind a dune 20 feet away,
he must have urine building cock-strength,
I thought, as the tide stole sand under burnt toes.

On the bank, I hand-blocked the last rays
minutely eroding – all eyes bathed
in hues of vermillion to purple royalty.

Twilight fell to pockets of bubbles
simmering on the surface of the sand,
foam-topped waves rushing back to sea.

My mother dashed to a cluster of froth
digging clumps of beach with her hands,
two fingers under, a thumb on top,

she held a clattering decapod up to the air.
Her curiosity still prodigious at sixty,
an offer of sculling oars to powerful chelipeds

moving erratically but nipping nothing –
handed to me – a Chesapeake blue crab
frantically hog wriggling out of my grasp.

Cackling in-between sips of pale beer,
my father still atop the dune he pissed behind,
raising his hands, praying in strange tongues.

John Hansen

John Hansen

John Hansen received a BA in English from the University of Iowa and an MA in English Literature from Oklahoma State University. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in The Summerset Review, Verse-Virtual, Trouvaille Review, One Sentence Poems, Schuylkill Valley Journal, Eunoia Review, Amethyst Review, Sparks of Calliope, and elsewhere. He is English Faculty at Mohave Community College in Arizona.
John Hansen

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