three octaves, up, or
down, these
old measures,
these skipping stones, ringing time
earnest, liquids, blessed- in silence,
a ganged cacophony randomizes
in her shallows,
the sexless
prince unfolds carp and magnolia
plush, encountered on the shore
heavy beach, caressing
the down town hours
away from the animal
tooth, the claws retract,
the bloodless night
is about to change, the
steal so close at hand.
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