my poetry has become
a seagulls cry.
A soul adrift
on a becalmed sea.

This sailors wife has
knitted his death
into his sweater.
the sea shall swallow me.
Unoticed with its infinite greed.

The cloudless sky
will take my poems
and recite them in sea winds.
from a place on high.
the verses now melt
Into a single sound.

my poetry has become
a seagulls cry