March 21, 2020

the water is deep
the ocean is high
the moon is tired
and the eyes are dry

the heart is pinching
and the fingers tingle
the stomache chruns
and the lips they wrinkle

the sighs continue
through up and down
of skipping beats
and permanent frowns

long ago
of a tidal sky
dreamt and imagined
on a quiet night

ex p a n d ing
p u l s a t i n g
ti ti ti-ckl-ing

as it passes
and as it fades
the remanence trickles
for decades

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