Sunday, June 20

already the night is looked upon the stars/and our joy quickly turned to tears

a fear
of the words which speak
between the moon and the sea,
i, raging and blindly swallowing water everywhere
and your stoical white with printed answers.

water waves i easily bear,
what of more brighter effusions-
like, of cloudy night of moments or,
smeared hollow on sand with fingers,
names waiting for water.

look down,
i have turned away.