A Vicious Vichyssoise…Public Sex; A Raw Lust for Money…The Inescapability of Fire Escapes…

Tidal Flight

 

Were you alone when you found me?

I find it likely. And did I vanish

When you stepped out

            Trying to carry me?

I am not surprised.

 

The swale of heavy sea

As first you march with your sieve

As second you grow heated and angry,

As third you dip your tools into me

And fling my parts into the sand,

Crying, your salt-crusted hair

 

Hiding your face.

 

And of course my importance

Yields nothing for either of us.

Myself, too inert. I have already sunk

And gathered in the

            Only place that will hold me.

 

You, crouched by my side,

Bent to the ground, breathing.

We require this place. No one else

Is here, can be here, will believe you,

Will remember at all. When you go,

 

I go.

It cannot be proved that we ever met.

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