The small place I rented in Le Conquet
by the sea, only a stroll to the harbor when
the cold presence of things cut into the present.
In the mornings I saw the seamen return
and sling their leaden nets onto the dock. Beaten,
they always had on the same khaki and blue.
Their faces wore the tears of the sun, nodding politely
as I passed by.
The seamen always nodded: to the poor winter weather;
to the dirty deck; in acquiescence to the long night
Straight-mouthed, but nodding.
When I couldn’t see them at sea I’m sure they lifted
their collars and nodded welcome to the breaking storm.
More poetry from Tomer Knowiecki
Tomer Knowiecki is the 2009 Tangled Web Press Online Poetry Contest winner, with his poetry appearing in the upcoming 2009 Tangled Press Poetry Anthology. He resides in Los Angeles, CA, where he recently received an English degree from UCLA and is currently studying Law.