Past an estuary

40/100
100 poems/52 weeks challenge’ 2018

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The cliffs are lacy under the tap of my feet,
They belong to a torpid ocean snoring below
Where a girl without her bonnet once dove
To be baptized and to be free, but then
What a bunch of fool-hardy
To die in itself is a ritual of the stained glass
A sun-lit mirage
Under the sunder sea, opening
With a promise of cruel naked lights,
The fireplaces burning against the gravestone and
An Atlantis of seals caught in male colognes

It is just hard to swim an upstream
Simply too eager to give away
The girl who sought to be free,
I ran like a torrid of rain
The bottom of the stream is red with
injured corsets and footstools
But tripped, I tripped on my own fall
With my broken glass slipper
And the sorry chime of the clock.



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