A Stitch in the Night

Trapped together on this island

under this canopy of light

a stitch in the night of ripped denim

interlocking coils of rain

unfolding from our will

never static, stagnant nor predictable

it’ll give us only distance

residue on the next morning

tears from the ceiling we’ve constructed

without the strength to hold it back.

Pools offer glimpses of the sky’s infinity

the energy expressed in mist

cloaked in myth

the shadows that hug the cliff

are too temporal to leave symbols.

Cave lapses, I’ve been here before,

on another coast, along another shore.

There was another shade

another penetrating wave

while foam cascades

over another glistening throne.

Each moment

like one great gasp of a white-capped wave

pounding infinite fragmentary diamonds

upon the waiting pockets of the earthen fold.

The Point, the surf, the sky-reflected shore,

the hazy drastic horizon’s blur

the child’s fantastic dreams

laying there condemned to water

the ocean slowly encroaching

this half-formed crustacean.

I’ll take you in, then set you free again.

Tides are endless creamy seas,

great white horse-driven waves going static

in their asylum of broken whispers,

nocturnal emissions I pray I’ll always hear.


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