Echoes Of The Silent Shore
How can I sever wolf-waves from the selfish sea?
I ache to cut the rogue from the relentless flow
his crest swelled in high rise on testosterone tide
swindles my tease to tame his blue Neptune flame
mocking my sun dried bed with unruly despise
he rides a white steed in petulant power with the moon
I am the passive strand of sand longing for his rhythm
oh timpani thunder roll in roll over me my skin awaits
taunt of aerated fate I await with serrated silence
stranded by him… I await… as inconsequential
as an oyster shell without a pearl
as a pearl unfulfilled without a knotted strand
I am the beach exposed at the lowest ebb
my eyes not sand-blind when juicy sun colors him red
and fuels his restless quest for honeypot conquests
to consummate sunset with supple skies far from home
and conjugate with sugar-shores not his own
my protests to his stray-sprees lay like loose scree
lure-lyrics litter air but die a pale chitter in his ear
fruited gripes broken in breakers re-rhymed in pulp
summer-sweet to his palate as pale peach wine—
whine in the grind of my grain soundproofed by his kiss
where is his echo to my thirsty plea of love
when he’s the romeo sea and I’m the sand seduced
and exist in recline to absorb his homecoming
while beach-grass-bending wind
whips my voice away from my throatless soul?
my resist drowns in liquid grooves of his drum beat
spume churned in surf zone our spindrift in bloom -yet
echoes of the silent shore echo in me alone
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