Where Giants Slept

Charles Albano


I remember
the place where giants slept.
A special place
where indolent giants--
rain forest bred,
stretched in profusion
on a wistful beach
of the Olympic Peninsula.
Their stone gray arms,
fine-weathered,
protruded in every direction,
searching blindly
for their final destiny,
as they lay beached
in the morning mist.
I had to climb their carcasses
to reach the ocean.
They fanned out,
north and south,
infinitely
it seemed.
I loved that morning there,
never saw the likes of that--
an entire forest lying prone,
like hapless D-day invaders.
Where did they come from?
Canada? Alaska?
Whatever--
somewhere giants grew.
Jumping from one to another
made for good aerobics--
a petty occupation.
But if I had lived
anywhere nearby,
I would have set up shop
as a craftsman,
creating beautiful
rustic furniture and art
from those
most accommodating remains,
giving them a fit,
and well-deserved
afterlife.

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The 2River View, 2_3 (Spring 1998)