by Josie
My praise is but
the catacombs of waves
the stuff of ant children
and young sunflowers.
Waves speak quieter
than I,
and go much further.
I wave,
the whole earth grows—
how my arrogance is so!
For all my glamour
the mollusks shed tenfold
and I,
with childlike grin
take discards home
to frame.
