Photo credit: simonturkas via / CC BY-SA

Pound of Sand

I see a line drawn
in a sandy beach
on a hurricane shore.

The waves defeat the seagulls
bobbing helplessly, surfacing,
sipping air in exasperated curses,
calling out the storm god,
cursing him.

They live in strip malls 
with convenient store to store
purchases, sail-less villages with excquisite
customer service.

Their veins are opened
like lead and gold married,
divorced, separated, 
unaware of their vacancy.

Grays and specters,
anatomical configurations — 
mannequins, with ample bosom
but no offspring.

A cavity,
an empty cave,
A daydream with no playground.

An ounce of determination 
in a pound of sand.

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