Regard the sun. 
She winks with lashes tall as lies
she smooths the edges of her liquid
grin and calls the birds to flight 
before my eyes. Can but even one 
crab make it across the black lava rock 
before the tide folds itself 
once more upon the shore? 
I would extend my stick to him 
if I could, but my hands dissolve
against the wood and I come to rest. 
Three o’clock. Ticking. Ticking. 

Trace the time against the pale sky 
to find the start of evening. I would if I could. 

Rozell, 2021

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