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Lament for the Atlantic

Seas of us stretch like solar
systems. On all sides
she threads charcoal death.

Space between stars is space
between islands circled in gray.
Here, even air sinks heavy
into broken-hearted eyes.

I swim from the island of highways
and high-rises to the island
of roadless hills. Neighbored only
by sea nymphs and forever sky.

Dead wind whips like anger,
like sunrise, like avalanche.
If you stand at her edge, you must stare
right into her eyes and clench your fists.

Stand at the highest point turning
from the sea of gray to the sea of green
to the sea of gray to the sea of green

to the sea of
the universe of stars.

First published in San Pedro River Review

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