• Vol. 03
  • Chapter 09
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How It Happened

I walk to the sea;
flat as rolled steel,
destroyer grey.

Nothing pimples the horizon
but a cruise ship
with its staterooms flying.

A sliver of silk or mist
curls from there to here
on a sea gust.

There’s no avoidance;
it wraps around my head
like a start of shroud.

Who uses cerulean
toilet tissue?