OUR HUMAN SHORES
I strip bare the marrowing cold.
I stand whipped against the ocean
the cold snapped sand pelting
a precise explosion wasted
into distilled truth—an incipient
thought flowers—pollinates
a facsimile of fashioned hours. Hope we make.
Hope we need and always a burrowing.
Here, I collect the chemicals
from the air. A frosted, wet morning—
exhale these vapored thoughts
extinguished immediately.
I try to drown out the waves
that are drowning me.
Echoes shape the edges
of memories we bleed
together. Emotions we forget
to forget. Love emblazoned upon skin.
Call me a wreck. Call me when I pass fidgeting
silent into pulsating Ragnarök.
Promise me tomorrow.
Call empty my name a broken
breath of me my memories
you have lain.
TYPO
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