Some days it stalks me
spit-snarling tiger
treading water
on which my boat balances
precariously
longing breeds longing
longing like a thundering
sand-storm
grit plunders my tongue
my teeth longing for
the barely-detectable crunch
of white buttercream icing
you can keep your garish
blue roses
the splashing ceases
in the silence something
submerged
noses the thin hull
below my feet
(c) 2017, by Hannah Six
Image: cuzitwasgood
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