Drowned.
DROWNED
Drowned in the mirror
Where reflected image stirs
The features of my face
Pivoted in depths of nights.
Rivers in the flow
Shipwrecked in sand
Purposeful dark dreams
Shadows chasing a song
In satiated amorous hands.
Taking heed in glories of earth
A passing images held by wrist
Dedicated firstly to passing wind
And then to the gathering mist.
A poem is a poem, what else could be real?
It is there, all in all, and nothing more to steer.
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