I subscribe to a service that sends me a poem every day in the middle of the night and I look forward to waking up so I can see if there’s a new gem or a ho-hum or a what-the-heck. This was today’s and I’m still picturing those last three lines. (This is one of my photos on the pier from 2004.)


The man has chosen
that he wants his ashes scattered
from the end of the pier

where he used to fish with his buddies.
They’d sit on overturned paint buckets.
Sometimes the waves gusted up

and the hems of his pants got wet and salty.
He liked the gulls that stood on the railing,
all puffed up with sky.

Having made the decision,
he walks at dusk to the end of the pier
and looks out at the sea.

As he turns away, he sometimes gives
a small, happy nod, like a man
thinking yes, I will buy this house.  

Copyright © 2023 by Chloe Honum.

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