A Pale Scrawl
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Adrift

5/9/2018

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Picture
You said the hull would hold
The trickle nothing to worry about
“You just have to bail it out sometimes”
So I packed my provisions
Kissed my loves farewell
And climbed aboard


I could smell it coming
I could hear it in the gulls’ voices
As they swooped around us
Long before I saw the gathered clouds
Roiling in the distance
The wall of them more solid
Than you beside me


Your fair weather trickle
Became our undoing
Too much to scoop with a pail


Now land is far away
And the splinters of our vessel
Have drifted
Or I’ve drifted


I’m treading water
Arms and legs churning
Beneath the surface
Of the angry foam
Atop my sea of storm-tossed thoughts
With decisions to make
In this exhausted, bruised body
Hanging on to dwindling hope
And your cold hand






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