I am crossing an ocean
one butterfly stroke at a time,
laying on my back and floating,
then sinking and choking,
then finding my sea-legs
and swimming again
in the fashion
of aimless minnow,
brow furrowed to find land...

this pale sea-sick hand
finds a bouy,
finds a flotation device
and divine peace
under the salt-slicked sky.

06/05/2010

Posted on 06/06/2010
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