sea glass wind chime

i can’t fit a blue
bottle tree in
my apartment
so this’ll have to do.

if i can’t keep
the spirits away
illusioned by polished
bottles on the skinny
tips of cedar branches
i hope that this’ll do.

i feel like ray charles.
looking at all these
swirling blue cobalt
glass chunks tumbled
by the waves;

in my hand, they’re
no heavier than the
quarters i scooped out
my piggy bank.

i swirl the extras in
my mouth. my teeth
are fuzzy like the
seaglass.

wrapped in wire like
silver bramble, some strings
keeps them slowly
knocking into each other.