A New Sea

A new sea sprinted away in a sigh
A wet song sponged away to stars of origin
In my dark squint
My thin longing
My chamber longing
My suppose so and beg
I felt the tiny imagined hands of recoil
An unplug from haunted house
A story where the cold floor, the park bench
was                     preferable
There are no grounds for fire, it must rise
Dragging the river I found no water
Just longing, a need
To replace a foot
This I
Skinny still
This egg
Not long
Since nestled
In my
Mother’s
Mother’s
Slipper

Encaustic 2020