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Dec 2014
Met the dog in the dark
but having danced
reached out a hand
to still the growl.

Found the taste of salt
a way of enjoying cold
so that only wildness lived
where doubt had taken hold.

She only smiled.
The waves too tired to eat
stroked the fire in her flesh
reached in to make her well again.

When the root of pain was cut
she was ready, ready
to run ahead again
and be unravelled in the dark.

And the waves of wine in her head
breathed a bloodless birth,
met my tide of teeth,
was well met in the surf.
Tommy Randell
Written by
Tommy Randell  67/M/Whitby, N Yorks, UK
(67/M/Whitby, N Yorks, UK)   
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