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Drowning Men

When she was sure that only drowning men could see her
she smiled. And I, the last sailor floundering in her wake,
enfolded in the vigil of her waves, felt what I had only known the limits of.

Her trembling mouth like a searchlight,
my poverty revealed.
The grey of the sky,
the brine on the wind,
her salt on my tongue.
Naked and weary,
I smile back at her.

With coral at my feet and driftwood at my head
I am happy as she fills my lungs.

Posted 03/25/11
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