Uncannily sanguine,
wounded by biting gnats―
you return home.

You would call the
family for a final―
drink and
drown the moon.

You have come very
far from the inviting
shores in deep sea―

to be ****** into the
whirlpool of silence―
to end the sounds.

You will not put the
bread upside down. Who
will provide the priceless again?

A small saga of unheard renegade?