Form
Atlantic, The, March, 2007 by Campbell McGrath
Ocean like beaten metal removed from the cooling pail, mark of the hammer and tongs, the smith’s signage, grain revealed as by pressure of the baren in a Japanese print, substantial, bodily, color of agave, color of bitter medicine, translucent only when the waves rise up to break at the bar, fingered by sun to the texture of meringue or Verano glass.
Miami is not famous for its seashells. This beach, continually eroded, is held together by borrowed sand, graded by tractors at dawn, willed into place by the tourism industry. But today, after a week-long barrage of northeast winds, it resembles the famous shell beds ...