Near Horizons


An untroubled gull
looped
the far shoreline.
Swooned the sea,
swung by the mistral air,
where
(the soft touch
of the back
of your distant hand
to your cheek,
much mirroring
the need for contact)
its caw came echoed
laughing and crying,
lost in the muffled din
inside you.
Looking further out,
some rusting tanker
carried vital cargo
from there to there.
A toothbrush laid on the sink
of the horizon.
And if this was tomorrow,
would be gone,
unzipping the sea-sky-line
of loneliness
elsewhere.
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3 thoughts on “Near Horizons

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