Beneath the Ocean Floor

Disheveled as the fingers of morning this sage in her sedentary stoic seat needs no purge to enter gloaming Ripped at the seams by eventide with hair of finest wheat she lingers fearless as the tide Dormant dreams at sundown's door chalk faced white as sheet she drowns, in the ocean bellied floor taken by the shackles of her wrists on leaden feet she walks towards the ether, in Gist