Emily


You storm upon my waiting sea
in multiples of God-
and all my little sloops slip in
for shelter from your dead.

You gyrate waves of cruelty
across my darkling world,
forswear me blessings of the flesh.
Your surge has turned me cold.

Your spiraling body sweeps me in
and stars are at your font.
My birth and death at your command
are nothing, but I want

to penetrate your outer rings,
behold your inner eye
that glares with awful wisdom at
a raw eternity.

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