Thursday, May 10, 2012


By Elizabeth Schultz
Beneath the bay, Earth itched
and stretched. Burdened by 
mountains and by time, she
felt the need to readjust both. 
Her shoulder muscles flexed, 
and tectonic scapulas scraped 
against each other, a megathrust, 
the land grating, groaning, and 
shaking and shuddering, she threw 
the blanketing sea into a delirium, 
a whirlpool of nightmares. 
At last she relaxed, and her axis 
wobbled back into place, easing
both land and sea. They lie together 
now, side by side, placid and sober, 
indifferent to the mess of bedclothes 
strewn around.

Published with permission. 
Poem from Elizabeth's recently published Anthology "Coming from Japan"