Something About The Sea

In the morning I hear the clapping sandals, 

Sand in plumes, salty perfumes stroke the air, 

Hung light and cool and beaten by wind, 

My skin already raw, is running for the door, 

The day outside, and the dainty surf that seeks, 

The shore’s bossom, to beat the seagull shrieks, 

And the sharp pain of hermit bites, 

Hidden in pockets. The sea can’t compete, 

Slung out for me to see, beckoning me to swim, 

An entreaty towards a trap, this gawping monster’s hidden teeth. 


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