Tuesday, April 5, 2016


I feel the siren’s knives whisper
behind my back. If I close
one eye will I still be looking
for you? I am ready to go
down with the ship;
there is grace in the
pounding of the sea.
Whose anchor are you tied to?
Will it slip when the storm
shakes the dead. I am
only breathing while the
rocks gather strength.





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