BOATS NEAR ÅSGÅDSTRAND
Edvard Munch, 1904
This is what it looked like
stepping out on those slippery
rocks that line the strand. But I
didn’t see it till I said it, while
discussing Boccaccio’s Middle Ages
& my own, how close she came
to my own perception, following
each other into the depth & distance.
Both of us were sure to drown
that way. Yet here by the shore,
all seemed safe. We took each
other’s arms & waded out a few
steps upon those shapely rocks that
scoured our feet, surrounded by a sun
blinding swell of light. A few steps
on, we bobbed & laughed, drawn to
what some call the brink.
Copyright © Peter J. Grieco . White Whale Review, issue 2.3