for R.

it may be that this year

gives us fewer and fewer steps to surety

that we are knocked from our feet

an inch and a mile at a time

until we are

no longer standing

but swimming, floating, buoyed

by uncertainty

and no longer bound.

tomorrow we will take the bus to the shore

and pick shells from the wavering coast

dye them all the hues of the rainbow

and arrange to meet their brightness

at the edge of the page.



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