by Jonathan B. Aibel

We came to Provincetown to hold

hands, remember? Sand vortices.

Tidal gyres. The lighthouse across

the breakwater. Tumbles of granite, schist,

our two and three-footed scramble. Remember,

laughing gulls? The goose-skin of our arms?

We will never get closer.

The wind under our clothes,

I remember, we were wild once,

sandpipers dancing on sand's edge.

October slips into remembering

before we know, Provincetown herself

sinks below the waves.

Jonathan B. Aibel is a recovering software engineer who lives in Concord, MA, traditional homelands of the Nipmuc. His poems have been published in Barrelhouse, Chautauqua, Pangyrus, Lily Poetry Review, Cider Press Review, and elsewhere. Jonathan's chapbook Echoes of Uruk was a semi-finalist for the Tupelo Press 2024 Snowbound Prize. http://www.jbaibelpoet.com.