On Bleached Seagull Sands
Over the crys of seagulls
gods whisper loudest
over rain, and children voices
heavens open, declaring
'Sorrow is a pagan mask,
to scare the spirts
of envy away!'.
In Summer, tides rise
longest, crustaceans
crawl highest, only
to be devoured sooner
on bleached seagull sands
warming, burning, leaving
a decaying, vanishing shell.
Copyright © Dimestore Shoes | Year Posted 2009
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