Another experiment, this time a prose poem.
Waves crash on shelved rocks, on yellow sand; ozoned smells insinuate; cliff edge gulls squawk and swoop in sharp sunshine: summer’s afternoon soundtrack. My head on your lap: your hand on my hair; eyes shut, ears open.
Insistent beeps. Repeat; insistent beeps. Eyes open to darkness. Auto hand stretches to alarm. I reach for you, for the memory of you, lost in fugged sleep.
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