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before you became a survivor
you come back smelling of damp wool-
the sweater and coat, straw and shit
picked up from late nights
after smoking weed
ash flaking from chin and cheek
and i wish you could be where the ocean lies
Where you felt the subtle wind shifts
salt glistening on lips
as fish gasped and stars clustered in the sand
we used to walk there
hurling coins across the sea
building bridges with knots and fists
i watch you now
digging up cities of corpses
as doves fly out of your pockets
scavenging the carnage.
