Arts + Scene » Poetry

The Move



been navigating the shores of my life
tied up in those big ropey knots that
only true sailors know how to undo

these old blinds and curtains are nothing
but ruffles of wind on the waves

sporting a sheen of sweat
(and the shine of salty spray
on my tired but satisfied face)
it is a pink-orange end to voyage 

this juicy, sunset satisfaction
spilling through windows
(traversing cabinet and cubbyholes 
and staining my kitchen floor)
is a certain prelude
to the liquid light of the evening stars

stars, spreading wide
over a great, wet ocean

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