Sunday, July 30, 2017



some losses are boats

built of unknown timber
they float between piers

i wrestle with their gunnels
feel the nature
of the woods used
for hull and rail
which separate me from
water's long, hard swallow

i trace whorls
sanded and varnished
smoothed by long fingers

i hug myself hard
on salty air
hold fast
and remember to breathe

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We had to say good bye to my darling girl two weeks ago.  I am a bit adrift.