Moonstone Earring Triangle

Dah Helmer

To the wide sky of the south
above winter’s rip,
fiberglass clouds
hardened with ice

Chimney smoke,
lighter than December gray.
Moonstone Beach,
waves peeling like wallpaper

Assuring myself
it’s not thundering,
I look for lightning,
only to hear the sea’s tuba

I see sunrise setting fire
to foggy scenes,
wet sand sucks my feet.
A lone earring, buried
under the breakers

A woman, yogi, forms Triangle.
Covered in mist, she blends
human with ocean with shells.
Straight up, her left arm
gathers moisture

The woman moves into Mountain
fingers plugged into light
Sky floats in hands, her eyes,
fixed with solar beams, remembering


Dah’s fourth poetry collection is The Translator (Transcendent Zero Press, 2015) and his poetry has been published by editors from the US, UK, Ireland, Canada, China, Spain, Australia, Africa, Philippines and India. His poems have recently appeared in Straylight Magazine, Otoliths, The Cape Rock, Acumen Journal, Sandy River Review, Indian River Review, The Linnet’s Wings, and Junto Magazine. Dah lives in Berkeley, California and is working on the manuscript for his sixth poetry book. ‘Harbinger Asylum Magazine’ nominated Dah’s poem “Some god” for the 2017 Pushcart Prize. He is the chief editor of ‘The Lounge’, a poetry critique group, and his fifth book is forthcoming in 2018, also from Transcendent Zero Press.