Never there.
I don't think I shall be
Ever there.
The growl of the ocean lays me out
Stealing sounds from my mouth
Round oh's slip from my lips
Into the sand and the sky and the stone
Which is all salt,
all warm,
all fierce.
These bleed and cry
Like a pack of gulls
That circle over a morsel
Not quiet dead
But almost.
The stabbing sound
Heralding the world,
A death bell
And the last sound heard
Before the quiet and the black.
Dear God, what am I.
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