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a storm of ships

a mermaid’s tears, from glass and sand.
a harp pulled from a siren’s hand.
the wind’s echoing thrills, as if mystic sighs
raised from the depths of a sailor’s eyes,
from a place beyond the touch of death,
above the rise and fall of breath.
and it’s boundless deep. it’s a circling wave.
it’s the pattern and plunge of the rhythm that gave
me my floating song, to hold close to my lips.
a seaward dream, and a storm of ships.

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