Boom
Where once I saw the sun
flare like a peacock,
fish bones hiss
on a shale whipped beach,
banshee’s are dredged from sandy graves,
spume slaps nests of air.
Waves boom inside my beached ribs.
I am so full of sadness
that I hear myself mew
like a gull in a gale
when it tumbles
as flightless as stone.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2019
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