Broken Conch Espinela
Picking up a broken conch shell,
I hear the bass line within it.
Watching the petulant sky’s snit
as rage grows unable to quell.
Eyes caught inside an ocean’s swell,
there’s no way I could turn and run.
It comes for each town one by one,
hotels and the boats are no match.
A vision that made my breath catch,
I’m glad that a cloud never spun.
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