Alice Miller / WHAT FIRE

An Opening

Green lit white on waves.
Churn shines like bit skin. I love
the ocean’s utter sinkage,
love how stones travel down slow,
how gulls dive and bring up shells
to toss on rocks and open meat.
Meat’s not ours anymore, land’s taking itself back.
Animals too. A war like no other’s begun
though for now we wouldn’t know it.
For now waves lick skin, prop up bodies,
float us over unthinkable depths
out into unthinkable distance.
Lie on the surface and feel the pull,
try to trick the water to answer.

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