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CvK |
Breakers |
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In break with
breakers’ combing Of sand tapped by a
chiming fingering On a naked shore
sure in memory Made of us curled
within a dune And brushed by
grass like tufts Of hair on a sunburnt face. The
move Within is the tide
and the salt is sweet On our exchanging
tongues. With hands held
against the burning horizon All is small: the waves about your Nails are ripples,
the spray across the rocks Is steam, and a
particle of sand becomes A jeweled boulder,
and there on hand to hand There is a
life-line for us. Sea, skirling with
gulls and foam, hides All change, while
we rest within the moving Dunes and see
forever on our palms. |
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