Time My Big Pox
by John Cutler

Time, the big pox
is upon the swayscape.
However asunder the weather is foe
the gnarled sea plums
drop from the rocks
their luscious mute promiscuity
unknown to the gull tribe.

The sun is less pox
and more plum.

Time pox is bright light
by rocks down,
near moss thrown,
by sea scallop shown
by the tides silent groan.

Pox, eclipse thy murderous silence.
Begin the shuddering,
and boards over oceans
shall not conceal
much for long.