May Day - Retrospective - 68

the bench angled the small
part of my back
liquid brass
bay washed in blue
grasped me still
so that if even
one eye shed
single -
that was reverence.

still in that place
of murmured tickles
carnival ferried sisters
the same summer
it was love
though foreign
ships had sailed
off and over split horizon
shores of Sheepshead.

undoing memories
as quickly as they etched
onto our licking salty faces
to buoy silent
drifting steady
whilst the sea
filled the sky's empty places.

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