FDR


By Eileen Cleary

I was there when they pulled his lawyer
from the Atlantic,
salt marsh mosquitoes fringing the air
sand crawling between my toes
the glib waves roller pinning the shore
his eyes grotesque.
A bare forked animal.
Oh! But the kelp framed his face and crowned
his naked head.
A clue carved in his chest,
FDR
and nothing else.


Eileen Cleary is a poet and nurse living in Massachusetts. This is her first poetry publication.