All The Fishes


The Tide

The ache
ebbs and flows in her like the tide –
at times swelling and spilling
out through her eyes.

Waxing and waning as if with the moon,
it drowns then dries her out.

Devastating not with cataclysmic force,
but rather persistence and indifference,

it gradually claims towering cliffs and solid stone.

And yet,

when it pools in small parts,
the most delicate, crystalline creatures take shape.

They rise during the calm equilibrium
between the oscillating pendulum’s opposite ends.

Their luminescent limbs skim the glass smooth surface –
while they wade in the brief interim.


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