Wicked Game

I am on my hands and knees.
Bending at the heart of me.

Stop to catch a shattered inhale
Can’t get it inside
Of me fast enough.
Crisp, clean air.
I looked back and
I shouldn’t have.
The sweet smell
Of salt and trees, standing
At the edge of the ocean.
Dancing for the waves.
I drift.
The best parts of me, come
Out when everything else
Has been let go.
Keep running.
Slip into the abyss,
Of where is she now.
Who knows.

Hiding in the midnight of my soul.

The Headland of the Eastport Peninsula at Salvage, September 19, 1986

 

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