Returning

Unfurling––returning
In seablown wind––the windblown sand
Sans water. Returning
To gritty, weathered in-
dolence wrapped about that ethe-
real one. Widening
to catch the wind––a windmonger;
tightening to catch the
heart, fluttering foul
under the beacon
of sunken knots
of light. Here––
or somewhere 'twixt here and the-
re, sunken dreams a'bubble into foux
skies, tainted azure sighs, pearls of a canner
-y row row rowing gently to no more. Petty things
to sell, fall
into part-
ly the
wrong hands, partly sent
so bubblin' into no hands at all, retur-
ned, sans water, towards kin,
then-maiden knots.
Hold
Me.
Or
better yet––now hold my innar-
ds, kiss
them as a lover would. And lose
me not––unfurled upon
the
cypress wood.





In the end, what is returning but the second coming? From the grave, from the Great Flood, from togetherness, from the one. Unfurl the tale––upon the grave, the glittering shovel take.