In Let
The waves roll heavy on themselves; complaining of
the dull roaring aches and pains
in the thighs and buttocks -
strained muscles flare and batter
the breakers ceaselessly
knowing nothing of sanctity or fear.
They beat senseless themselves, until they bleed over the reflection of the moon, rippling in its own wake:
A mirage of ghostly light. Contempt for solidity.
When the particles split they see two eyes staring blankly in the night and still the waves roll painfully back onto themselves.
