We held eachother's
ghosts,A fist of sorts. Your blue claws
tight around my quickest vein,
a dagger in my dark belly.
And the drum's chord beat
the rock in mirrored waves;
washed night from limb
like fine mist from the hills.
When you leave the bed
I understand the sea- the quiet, deep organs
of its body, the constant pulse
of its grief against the shore;
the way it shines exquisite
in the sudden brightnessof our morning. 
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