• Vol. 06
  • Chapter 05
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The whites of eyes

The heart falls slowly
So desperate to cling
To the margin of sky
With a suit too white,
And no sign of tsunami
And no surge of nausea
Or thick oily spew.
White pus in your very pores.
Way too clean for that
We rise above, above the slick
Of body on body of a dark
That destroys the soul
Arms and legs akimbo
A shy gesture
‘Please, no bloody chunks
No beached de-blubbered whale’
A far cry to be embraced,
It slips out of the grasp
Of that flat milky blue.