kelp bed


Sam Keezell, Wheelock College '20




don’t step through the kelp bed

spread in front of my door

that reeks of low tide decaying matter

and is fatter now from drinking refinery runoff


I don’t expect you to be patient

while I keep wasting time

trying to heal myself

with the same broken tool

I don’t know how you could watch me

continue to fall gracelessly

the shame stings

I keep playing

the ring-around-the-misery game

but can’t get off this ride

can’t keep coming to you

and confide all my misguided moves

my sense of pride

looks like the towns by Santa Rosa

there’s nothing left but burnt remains.

It pains me to carry this remorse

but it drains me more to think of outsourcing it to you


I’m through burdening others

I’m gonna contain the burning to my own parched corpse

though the heat seeps out

and the fires will not wane.

Soon I will be but ashes of an elegant home so many people tried to maintain