Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Feb 2018
I took the bag and walked
30 feet out onto the bridge.

as the
string
tied

I saw it sway

and the waves
kicked it back up on to the sand.

rotting
in the sun--

there was really nothing beautiful about it.

I just remember

the

seaweed at the knees -- so green
Jay earnest
Written by
Jay earnest  30/M/Socal
(30/M/Socal)   
96
   Lior Gavra and camps
Please log in to view and add comments on poems