High tide

Sea funnels tidal
over breakwater
moss green like
undulating hillside

No beach, just slab
of sand shingle bitter
sweet hugging cliff
in effort to exist.

Horizon spreads out a
blanket of movement
sends waves of nausea
sleep I could sleep

in this deep rotting grace
let fish nibble my feet
simply slip away, hair
tangled weave, water

my last true lover.

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