Bring a goat or sheep
or the accused or the mad
or a hostile woman-
so near the knife’s edge of the sea
that their blood will spill into the brine.
The sea is bountiful,
but it must be fed.
Dark clouds gather.
You will smell it before you see it-
a black column of rain
blowing over the horizon
And the twisted bodies,
will roll in the surf
like empty shells
until the tide pulls them out.
May 12, 2025
May 12, 2025 at 5:00 AM UTC
Bring a goat or sheep
or the accused or the mad
or a hostile woman-
so near the knife’s edge of the sea
that their blood will spill into the brine.
The sea is bountiful,
but it must be fed.
Dark clouds gather.
You will smell it before you see it-
a black column of rain
blowing over the horizon
And the twisted bodies,
will roll in the surf
like empty shells
until the tide pulls them out.
May 2025 a poem