crashing, folding

november 2018
somewhere by the water

there’s no shelter in that beach house;
weatherboards reveal a cracked exterior
an unfinished driveway reduced to mud
and the gate that never closes right
has somehow shut you out for good

yet no matter how rough the storm
the waves will still gently fold together
grains of sand will still find new ways
to become embedded into hard soles
and gulls will come to claim their meal

in a vivid landscape explored at night
I feel the breeze swept off the bay
and my hands continue shaking
but your eyes won’t ever see again
just what you meant to me, honey