I tried, it's true and what we once had was tried-and-true
and I'd be lying if I said you haven't tried it too.

© Matthew Harlovic

my poetry has become
a seagulls cry
my soul is adrift
on a becalmed sea.
This sailors wife
knitted his death
into his sweater.
the sea shall swallow me
with its infinite greed.
The cloudless sky
will take my poems
and recite them
from a place on high.
the verses melt
to a single sound.
my poetry has become
a seagulls cry.