In the lull
Of our constricted voice
In the hushing
Of our sullen realm
In the finite
Of our broken hinterlands
A watermark
No, rather
A barrow
A grave
Without inscription
Only handprints
In memoriam
Of the receding surf
Never heard
Never reached
Sep 23, 2020
Sep 23, 2020 at 7:23 AM UTC
In the lull
Of our constricted voice
In the hushing
Of our sullen realm
In the finite
Of our broken hinterlands
A watermark
No, rather
A barrow
A grave
Without inscription
Only handprints
In memoriam
Of the receding surf
Never heard
Never reached
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