I’m twisted
into submission;
admission
to true world
of imaginary breeze
and coconut salt.
I’m a seed,
slipping into sand,
letting go.
The wild sea’s
crest and trough didn’t swallow me,
silence me - my thoughts.
Roots, a muse -
rest and recreate;
drudge baggage
ditched at shore.
The dunes spoil me with their grit
and pink hydrangeas.
Sunglasses
recover my eyes;
sunburn writhes
on my skull.
Hair in free fall, snarled and damp,
like anemones.
An assault
of coconut...
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