Clocked Silica
I'd like to die at the beach,
when I'm sanded down to light
and have taken all the splashing
these eyes needed,
but I wonder how much will wash over me
and be dragged under,
lost forever
but kept,
sunken pleasures...
and if time will plunder memory
or cast us under a stretch of dunes
we never walked to or dreamed of,
waving to the sky from an embrace of earth.
floating..
There are many tides left,
I tell myself,
as I walk past the driftwood and shells,
jellied seaweed, bird bones...
many things I'd rather do than die
now,
hungry and strolling,
tongue lolling.