From far away, you see the awful truth
of me and do not flinch. How unpleasant
all these years to be warehouse for my
insane devotions, unable to requite them.
*
Today I walked with my wife on the beach.
It was pleasant, but false, like shaking hands
with a stranger at a party. On the way home,
dead coral slashed the bottoms of my feet.
*
Later, I watched seagulls soar and list, each
wing and feather perfect synergy of strength
and flex. I wept because I am not strong.
Because I cannot learn to bend.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 16, Issue 1.
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