THE RAVEN REVIEW
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  • Home
  • About
    • About Us
    • Contributors
    • Support Us
  • Submit
  • Current Issue
  • Archive
    • Volume I >
      • Issue I
      • Issue II
      • Issue III
      • Issue IV
    • Volume II >
      • Issue I
      • Issue II
      • Issue III
      • Issue IV
    • Volume III >
      • Issue I
      • Issue II
      • Issue III
      • Issue IV
    • Volume IV >
      • Issue I
      • Issue II
      • Issue III
      • Issue IV
    • Volume V >
      • Issue I
      • Issue II
      • Issue III
      • Issue IV
    • Volume VI >
      • Issue I
      • Issue II
      • Issue III
      • Issue IV

Priscilla Beach​

by Jim Dunn
Ice cream and CVS wine
fueled the night chatter
with talk of baseball to distract
from the heart of the matter

Watch burning lanterns drift
over the sea, and wonder
do the blaze or burnout
as earthward they’re tumble

You sat, smaller, engulfed in your chair
drink in your enormous glass
distanced from sibling pair
hoping this night would pass

You were the one that wandered
lost at sea with your small crew
tethered by the thinnest of lines
invisible to all, but a few

Built a world of half-made plans
assembled, exhausted, and left undone
outrun the mishaps as far as you can
till here, landed, buried, and alone

Inside, you feel the pangs of
connections that are mistaken
and wonder, do I blaze or burnout
as your final breaths are taken

Why are wires always tripwires
And leaving only leaves us with less
We thought we had more time
Was all you could confess
​
Will this be the last time
peering down on Priscilla Beach
the fireworks and the pyres built
as you step into the breach

Jim Dunn grew up in New York and now lives in Washington, DC. He plays with corporate words during the day but loves to find better uses for them at night. He and his love like to meander the globe. He once saw Kurt Vonnegut jogging in New York City.