The tide pool.(New poems)(Poem)

 
The tide pool 
 
   The name of the town is lost. 
   A Kodak memory 
   restores the glacial scree 
   our bored Atlantic crossed 
 
   that burning July day. 
   The crowded tide drove in 
   like a release of sin 
   along the rocky bay, 
 
   leaving scattered tide pools 
   abandoned in its wake. 
   Beneath the glazed opaque 
   surface swam dark schools 
 
   that thrashed in private wars. 
   The pools were a modest hell--a 
   crab with ...