Aloof grumblings of some malleable kind
womanly tapping reminiscent
the sea calms in the roar of its skyline
rights are spread across an envelope
like a blade swimming in Rosetta stone
white maelstroms caress the ground and my flesh
the stones molding into clay
a pedestal far from reach
but close to heart
When will it end?
in a nebulous burst beyond the periphery.
Saints tatter around my swinging feet
evening comes sharply
like a disconnected telephone
your voice crackling on a frayed wire
We are left alone
with a thought of weariness
to be head cold in an April breeze
The Sea.
The Sea.
The Sea will drown all these
empty-headed fears
and take back the hallowed
piece of me
It will dance
like a velvet dream
through our corrugated lungs
It will scream
an old, haunted spiritual
to rest in our supple graves
The ghost of a half-eaten moon
to see the vision of shadowy beams.
- Shaun Millard