By Myah Garrison, New Gloucester
A postcard kind of pretty.
Arching green, breeching rocks…
‘Miami eat your heart out’.
Kind of pretty.
I’m used to the anorexic pine,
feet shredding grey of Maine.
I expect the sea to be cold,
the birds to sound repeating
Finger-painted blue over a coast
of honey sand and Christmas trees.
It’s too close to my fourth grade imaginations,
too much of a frosted apology,
that it keeps my boat
in the black-green of frigid sea..
Behind the white-plate serving
of swaying seaweed, the water looks
like a Crayola melted, warm.