Grand Isle

for Edgar Bowers, i.m.

The clouds this night collapse with violence
Into themselves, the frothing Gulf their score,
Then rise to forge a new design, each tense
With struggle to hold form, impermanence

Their constant state. Below, the fitful shore
Endeavors to maintain a faithful line,
Establishing frail boundaries once more,
Demanding less than what it sought before.

My last night on Grand Isle, I face the brine
Of maddened crests, each salted sting the shard
Of some Great Sculptor chipping to define
From blemished stone his grandiose design.



Glenn Bergeron

Glenn J. Bergeron II is a native of Louisiana and holds a B.A. in Languages & Literature from Nicholls State University. He is author of the poetry chapbook Above Matter a Dream Floats and Dead Reckoning, a collection of essays. Having earned an A.S. in Mortuary Science as well, he is also a licensed embalmer and funeral director. When not writing or undertaking the burial of the dead, he raises his two sons, Aodhan and Matthias.


'Grand Isle' has 1 comment

  1. April 1, 2020 @ 7:36 pm Cynthia Erlandson

    “Grand Isle” is beautiful. I love the exquisite description and the very creative rhyme scheme!

    Reply


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