At the Shore of Self
I have walked
on the grinding edge
of my wind-sharpened shores,
have talked of myself
beside the surf of myself.
I am grown thin in the service of
speaking thoughts out loud.
Where the shingle washes
beached starfish,
long-drowned words uncoil
to raise my voice
above a roaring silence.
Still, an in-coming tide
swallows and forgets,
swallows and forgets.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2022
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