Amorak Huey

Biloxi
 
   March 1993

Gulf the color of cold
chops and heaves
 
against gray sand.
I am locked out,
 
lonely: the only
life on this beach.
 
I have a notebook―
my hands
 
too cold to write.
Pink buildings promise
 
souvenirs. I have nothing
to commemorate.
 
In a city named after a fort
I find scant protection
 
against the blues.
This is where the world
 
ends. How did I end
up here?
 
If asked, I would say
I think I am happy.
 
I am not listening
to enough music these days.
 
 
 
 
Amorak Huey is a former newspaper editor and reporter who teaches writing at Grand Valley State University in Michigan. He is managing editor of the journal Wake: Great Lakes Thought & Culture, and his poems have appeared recently in The Southern Review, Rattle, Poet Lore, Oxford American, and elsewhere. More information at www.amorakhuey.net
 
 
 
 
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