miscallenous percussions, symbols of reunion

`
`

with

so this is how we define ourselves,
with a world protected by harbours
redundant in the size of theiir shore. with
miraculous pebbles, and a conscience cleared
of all extinct currents.

this is our defense. a body of water that moves
like a crowd but doesn't nudge, that doesn't resist
the visible bottom -- or carry its hat
among the waves. there's nothing but
pleasure here,
the fortune of holidays
and weekend receipts,
hard work that once was.

this is our visiting breath,
a willingness as dry as the sight
of a neighbour in the yard, walking
slowly perhaps,
deciding which colour of siding
she'll use for her house...