Swallowing Salt Water

How does one say
goodbye to a phantom
she never knew was
there before?—

I want to peel back
thin flesh and put
some light inside
the tendons, O, these cold

clam hands of mine…
Expectations or it
won’t be rolling tides
and chandelier eyes

lost to what ever
flare was here, now
ash to pack, sculpt
into teeth with erratic

glow. Incantation of “Hallelu…
maybe…” My spirit
draws it’s own line,
invisible, rising tide.

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