“we preserve the prejudices of the sea,

stand as dog-eyed soldiers
some fallen, in wooden uniforms, hear
the murmur of the wind
we overlook our foolishness, have no 
loved ones to go home to
except old growth forests, but now a
blacked topped, yellow
striped highway is where they lay,
like our feet beneath 
cold water, passing clouds taunt us
much like motorists who
taunt hitchhikers, they starve for 
attention as did dying
soldiers on forgotten battlefields, we,
as sentinels hear their
echoes, but as we are regimented in
deep sand, we can but 
only salute them, a distant sun sets 
as the night approaches,
approaches as village children did,
pilfering watches and wallets
the night pilfers the light of the day,
remnants try to steal away
like dying hands grasping wedding
rings, dusk is the colleague
of the poor; they both barefoot through
souls, disciplined by a need
we preserve the prejudices of the sea
and its needs, its breath
its briny air… “

Copyright © 04/19/2013 Ðark Ṝoasted Ƣoetry®


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