Curl in The sea shape Of uncertain sleep An agony of particular kinds of desperation Stitches the ribs and thighs Pulls tight the zigzag thread Almost running, almost still A fly in the honey Drowning, bliss Under an obdurate sun You can, almost See the stone-shear face In the concatenation Of precariously hinged boulders The sun breaksĀ Stern weathered graceĀ Into a brief, consuming smile
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