A cold flame licks tepidly at my
thalamus and hazy, distended memories
Reflected on brittle glass statuary, its orange
shattering into countless facades
A fraying, tangled spool of thread tumbles from my
hands onto cracked and yellowed linoleum
It catches on a tightly coiled spring, so coated
in rust that it cannot budge without a tragedy
Fingernails coated with a fine layer of salt, an irritant
to my red, cracked cuticles and gums
A dry and brittle piece of driftwood sits discarded by
the empty shores adorning my backyard
In the distance rocky outcrops jut ominously from
the water and its endless tide receding
While fog cascades downwards from
the mountains of my birth, washing and obscuring
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