Collectors
collectors
dropping footprints
in idle sand, eyes wide
fingers hanging empty
delicate shells, bits of
sea-glass, heart-shaped
rocks, the foundation of
'I love you.'
an intake of breath, crouching
toes buried digging through
dirt and then
scrubbing the prize
clean, nestling it with a smile
inside her pocket
or illusion,
her eyes dull, her hands
slack her conscience
waiting.
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