down the drain
into the arid dirt
it soaks the years up
radiating,
a russet hue on my face
bouncing off the moon at night,
while she sinks outside,
the line of the horizon;
yellow, not full
the arch twisted like
my full bowing brow,
straining to see her celestial descend
beneath the aqueous surface
still land is distant,
almost a dream
even though it sits coming
sprawling and open.
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1 comment:
I like the first line, it does feel like that when you come in from a sandy beach.
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