he confesses to her of love
destruction ripples behind
a destination somewhere else
ahead the water’s quite calm
but here still turbulent and deep
his hand on the tiller leads them away
where are we going with all this
she asks almost noticing the change
where we want to go he hesitates
hoping she heard what he said
*
our oceans fold oceans of tears
waves crush the past into sand
all travelers step to a shore
but not always hand in hand
(from a work in progress: “Arcana,” VISwords, January 1, 2014)
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