My Dearest Poseidon,


O, Shaker of the Earth, have you
stolen my scribblings? I have spilled

the secrets of my heart into these
tumbled waters; is there a reason

they have not yet reached my love?
Such things cannot stay bottled,

you know. That eraser dust moon
will pull them to shore one morn,

shattered so by your cantankerous
storms. And if these inky wonderings

bleed to sea, someday my love will
scoop these broken pieces of me, run

a quiet thumb over wave-smoothed
glass, catch a glint of sun, and see.



PAD, day 25.




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2 Responses to My Dearest Poseidon,

  1. Jean says:

    The last five lines are my favorites.

  2. This is beautiful – a beautiful thought!

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