prospect cottage

 

stones cover the beach
each a confession
solidified

look the beast
square in the eyes
grip the sides of the whole world
tight
a death grip
holding on for life

dear

mercy comes
in small doses
gifts
so subtle
the vain cannot notice
as their own light
outshines everything

– do not seek help from the blind –

back to the beach
the hum of streetlights
washing the world in a post
industrial orange

i read signs in his voice
directing me towards
salvation
away from the edge
to clearer skies
cornflower blue
a smooth stone in my pocket
a memory, a reminder
polished to a sheen
I can rub with my fingers
brail for the living
a message of life