Jeff Corey

AS IS

1.      

The atlas dismembers    
the ocean: 
blue transient 
fleshed      
by       the humpback’s inescapable eye. 
We look     through pages. 
The sea’s nostalgia 
is nameless. 

2.      

Above the ultraviolet bay,
the glacier glistens     like salmon skin.
Each word is a calving. 
Let our names swim upriver,
find their way back to silence. 

Jeff Corey works as a freelance writer and landscaper. His poems have also appeared in Tipton Poetry Journal. .