
Tethered kelp shakes
angry algal fists
at boy racer waves
reaching for shore.
Slow-time tides beat
lunar tattoos.
Oil black mackerel
taunt the shore bound;
Slick and shifting.
Wind whips; lips chapped;
horse-tail salt slaps.
Breathe in brine.
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| Will on Guya – Page 10 |
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