I want to hold all things at once
caught snug between forefinger and thumb.
To never let a tear slink itself down 
the chalky contours of an empty face. 
The wave ———— rears up in angst to crash
delayed ————— upon the whole heart of the surfer 
who waits ———– trusting no one around her. Have
the lessons ———- been written yet that need to be learned.
Oh, little mouse. You’ve taught the world 
to cater their whims down to the toothpick 
to loathe your litany just as you do. Clutching 
the ocean in an empty fist is a sure way to 

hold it all in. Half escapes and falls 
to the seafloor and half absorbs forever.  

Rozell, 2021.

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