Thursday, October 7, 2010



Reaching out over the balcony,
imploringly, a wetsuit.

A discarded shell, doubled over.
Arms unfurled toward street.

Shriveled and flimsy, a flattened
body bent in half, reverent.

A headless silhouette, arms cast
down. Balanced between

the railing and the tugging temptation
of falling, of the ground.

Contracting as it gives up particles
of ocean salt and sand.

The owner will climb inside it
again, and it will stand.


  1. Hannah, every day you create something new that just grabs me. This poem is wonderful. Your concluding lines move me.

  2. Yes, I love the conclusion. It will stand.

  3. I had a wet suit once, I loved, I love it even more... : )

    I am with Maureen and Susan on the ending...always unexpected and the best choice!

  4. Hi Hannah,

    I love this. My husband owns a couple of wetsuits, forlorn. He never goes surfing anymore. They definitely take on the shape of the wearer. As I was reading this poem, I could visualize the "life" in the suit, just like a pair of old jeans, crumpled in such a way, we feel, if they could, they'd stand up for themselves.

    I enjoy every line, but this is my favorite:
    "Contracting as it gives up particles
    of ocean salt and sand."

  5. The only caveat I have concerns the final stanza (just to buck the trend!). Might I risk offending by suggesting that by actually introducing the human element as a payoff, the cumulative picture of the wetsuit as a sort of humanoid entity is suddenly dispelled. This may have been your intention and my caveat may reflect nothing more than personal preference. But I so like the rest of it (and your work in general) that the point seemed worth making.

  6. Whoops! I must have deleted the first part of the above comment, which appreciated the poem greatly for its balance of drollery and poignancy.

  7. love this. your poems are fantastic!


  8. I absolutely love the last stanza! What a magical poem Hannah!

    I had to show it to my boyfriend Mark. We both love it ;)


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