The
landscape loses ground –
and
as sand is swallowed whole
there’s
less and less to see
–
only liquids lapping against the hulls.
With
nothing to grab onto
but
the winds of family, I feel faint
and
want to make love feel final
but
somehow it feels fake this time.
The
fact that we’ve done this all before,
bringing
up more age with age,
makes
me want to swallow the sea
showing
the land that was always there to begin with.
