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How I Became The Sea
the frayed rim of sea
draped with cream lace
the wind whisks
hikes the clouds in cackling curls
floods into a cove
loose shadows peel from stentorian palms
they blur over the water
spills chill on wet backs of galloping dolphins.
she enters, drenched with the song of rain
pain twists her palms in gnarled knots
patent in two glittering eyes, blacker than her heart--deeper too
the sun wheels down, she counts two silhouettes
their shapes flow harmoniously,
weaving together; they are the fingers of a worn musician at work
they are one
the sun is gone
her raw hands trace the cooling sand
she hears a gorgeous sound
poignant pressures of the stretching beach
condense upon her
salt sucks her skin,
sick water overcomes her
she is gone
even the waves are silent.
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Thank you, Adam Young, for being wonderful.