SUCH AMBIVALENCE IS BREATHTAKING
The skies are all open after you
get past the water, the land swirls
its upreach high as the mountains
make eddies of air. The soar planes
soar and the sailboats sail. There
are men in every little niche.
-
Still, the buttoned lip remains the
norm - as thing wash up along the
beach, but no one notices. The bones
of deserters, the femur of a plastic
sailor, the chest frame of a giant
something where seagulls peck.
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