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Moon Over Squibnocket By Daniel Halpern

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A hundred yards out The Rockpile shelters the keeper bass.

They rise from the bottom with the moon over Squibnocket

to feed on chum fish. The boats out there now

pleasure boats, boats of solitaries--captains

casting through darkness, casting for food, casting to spirits.

In a straight line the moon draws back to the beach,

cord of dimpled light white as schoolroom chalk.

We place beach chairs just beyond the tidal line

and here we sit. Shorts and T-shirts. Yet not wholly here.

Dinner of fluke and steak tips grilled rare over pale

driftwood--recent memory. A few of us sit here just looking out.

Oh yes, perfect summer night. A few of us just looking up.

From “Something Shining: Poems,” by Daniel Halpern (Alfred A. Knopf: 84 pp., $23)

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