Sea
Tom Grubb
[TAHG@aol.com]
First they broke his fingers.
Pulled too tight and overturned and
Snapped.
Night walls of wet rock.
Days of salt and broken flesh.
Seagull screams.
Bridges.
What music now?
Coughing sea-green into
Yellow handkerchiefs
He sits.
© 1999 Tom Grubb, all rights reserved
appears here by permission
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