At Bay

October 5, 2011
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Marooned on my fantastical island
I dug with seashells
And driftwood.
To make a perfectly round moat-- cut off,
Surrounding me with blue sea, no tributaries.
The sea monsters can’t
Threaten me; Aipaloovik has failed
To maintain his clasp on me, my sanity.
I am not powerless, a subjugated specimen,
No matter how the skies weep
Or mother sea roars at me,
In elusive whispers, expanding, to
Encompass me, increasing to
A dull monotonous chant:
Why, why, oh why, child;
Who are you?

An escape artist.
Re-discovering peace in
The serenity of isolation.
The sand specks of gold,
My solemn soul mate

Cradle
Me in soft satin.
Almost gritty enough
To persuade me to wage S.O.S.
But no one can come to my aid.
I am no ocean princess,
But a common girl
Whose been swayed by the ocean,
Trembling, under black-blue blankets
The heavens with holes
I peek through.





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