The crumbs of my bones
Get scattered on the waves
And they come washing home
On the cold back of gray foam
   Surfing the tide

You stood on the beach and waited
Waited and waited
And the crest of that wave
Folded and crashed like a grave
    Taking one last breath

Before it struck the cliff face at your feet
Like my throat opening
To let out your name
This poetry is the same
   Smashed to pieces by the wind

As it has always been the same
The same as it has always been
While you hope for salt air
While you tie your ribbons to driftwood
   While you watch shells break against the shore

I know, I’m still disappointing you
I may not be able to conquer
I might be lost at sea forever
   But I will be throwing open my sails

That I could yet float into your arms again
I’ll be pouring my apology until you say when

And if I become the captain I promised to be
I will leave all the sadness at the bottom of the sea
Until there is nothing left
   And there is nothing coming back but me

sitting in the dark long enough, your eyes adjust u

ntil shadows and outlines, the edges of things, be

come tangible. hard as metal, cold as ice. a body f

rozen in a lake. this is the edge of things. a photo

graph in gray. a sigh. a pen drawing circles until t

he page rips. ink bleeding through everything. an

abyss. abysmal. looking at a reflection, seeing thro

ugh it instead. hollow still has a shell at least. this

is the edge of things, where it stops. it stops…….