can you peel away darkness,
ripping strips from your skin and exposing
slick, cold flesh, rotting like
the underside of a mute’s tongue?
is just a shadow bleeding into the water,
nothingness reflecting in the wind’s palette.
bones weren’t made to be mismatched,
but neither were our souls
and we’re breaking them up into tiny pieces
to bury them inside clamshells
deep within the slippery, warm sand.