Marblehead, MA
The house of Doliber the Cordwainer on Brimblecomb Hill
is black now with pewterpurple doors.
The seagulls are white as sailcloth and make sounds
like the creaking dock.
The smell of blue striper and fried clams is as faint as a memory.
The sun peers down the carved-rock cat walks etched
through the hills of Old Town.
All of it reminds me of my childhood home at the edge of the sea.
