The softest voice dripped on me tonight
having noticed I always seem to be
heavy, alone, sopping wet, and alright
The nearest place to where I could flee
was the putrid crab shack of insight
where I insist nothing has happened to me
The cool tidal depth of twilight
tows me up a mulberry tree
it strings my spine quite upright
The silent correspondent lost somewhere at sea
I'm still waiting, rapt, for her postcard, despite
knowing we'll never again be three
Jan 27, 2018
Jan 27, 2018 at 2:05 PM UTC
The softest voice dripped on me tonight
having noticed I always seem to be
heavy, alone, sopping wet, and alright
The nearest place to where I could flee
was the putrid crab shack of insight
where I insist nothing has happened to me
The cool tidal depth of twilight
tows me up a mulberry tree
it strings my spine quite upright
The silent correspondent lost somewhere at sea
I'm still waiting, rapt, for her postcard, despite
knowing we'll never again be three
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