Literary Yard

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Poem: The Cliffs of Palos Verdes

By: Nate Elias

Photo by Christian Joudrey on Unsplash

I’ve eaten from the nest,
buried bones enough to pick
my pale heart’s flesh from the ocean’s
coral teeth. What crow corpse weeps

without marring a lover in its wings?
A harbor night, turbulent foam beneath
our broken tree, we plumed
each other’s feathers clean.

In the mirror of the hungry sea
I fell and you reached, your talons
unable to defy gravity

or save this winged creature
who unlearned to fly.


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