Here, I Made This
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Here, I Made This

memento mori two

David S.

stare at the surf
feel sharp points
jab foot soles
cold lapping waves
climb calves
soak your soul
a sound separate from waves
apart from gull and dove
shells tossed
tinkle as a rainstick
a million expired lives
clink against each other —
cheers, it is finished
you stand on inestimable sacrifice
the shards of past life stab at you
feel the prick of memory
as you shift your weight
adjust you vision
see in seashells
immense empty beauty



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