Friday, August 19, 2011


Losses piling, thick green
seaweed coating the soft gray
sand until it can no longer
breathe; bright shells of wonder
no longer sparkle in the sun;
sand fleas no longer leap
for joy in the darkness, their feet,
their clear and tiny bodies
constrained by layers upon layers
of striped grief strewn in
tracks like tears running
down the window
obscuring hope, vision,
all future this dense
sluggish morass.

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