Summer House: Waves



Waves crash again,
again, again

on rocks, on cliffs, on bluffs,
on mud, on sand

through estuary, through
beach, through dry land.

Pulse throbs again,
again, again

through ventricles, through
veins, through muscles and skin

The fascia of the earth
holds form together

until the waves crash
through substance

the pulse breaks through
the blocks inside

and out.

Erosion of form
of pain, of loss,
of resistance.

Crash again, again,

Until all that’s left
is space.

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