I wait for the holiday crowd to clear the beach
before stepping onto the first wave.
Soon I am walking across the Atlantic
thinking about Spain,
checking for whales, waterspouts.
I feel the water holding up my shifting weight.
In the first part of the poem, the speaker imagines himself walking across the Atlantic. This is an act of magical realism, as the reader can imagine what it might look like, even if s/he knows that it’s impossible. This imbues the speaker with supernatural or God-like powers – after all, Jesus himself walked on water. The speaker plays on the reader’s impression of this fantastical power at the end of the poem.
Walking Across the Atlantic