Off Alki

I dropped my father’s crab pot
into the Sound on a king tide,
watched the buoy marked
by his hand sink into the black.

I returned every day by kayak,
stirring the sun off the water
to peer for his name lost
amongst the kelp, his ashes.

Off Alki

I dropped my father’s crab pot
into the Sound on a king tide,
watched the buoy marked
by his hand sink into the black.

I returned every day by kayak,
stirring the sun off the water
to peer for his name lost
amongst the kelp, his ashes.

Heidi Seaborn 58, Seattle

FAVORITE LINE OF POETRY “You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows / Where you are. You must let it find you.” -“Lost” by David Wagoner
EARLY WATER MEMORY Beach combing and sailing with my parents.
FAVORITE LOCAL WATER Puget Sound. I live across from it. My father’s ashes are scattered in it. It is my center.

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