Wednesday, February 8, 2012

VIII: Shoreline

Waves of salt tears
are washing billions
of miniscule
crystal shards,
while bizarre
porcelain cups
and bowls
cast up from
deep and dark
merfolk realms
are presented
as gifts
to the rippled shore
by warm
and delicate
water fingers.

At times,
a blind and battered
is stranded in a wet
sandy crater
still hungering
for its briny food
while white sea angels
with long wings
are tossed about by
salt-laced airs.

They fight
valiantly against
the bitter wind,
and cry as if
for some
lost loved one,
despairing of
finding them
in the expanse
of the wide and
raging sea.

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