skin has this… edge.
only a smidge more precise
than the shores hemming these
floating flecks of coral
and cooled ash,
sentenced by tides to recline in the light
atomized and imprisoning.
What harsher colonizer of the mind
than distance?
What crueller slash than brothers made
into far-flung islands,
or love sarcasticized by lips
thinned to blades?
There is a lie repeated in the idyllic-ness of dusk
and a yawn of solemn understanding
that follows with the night.
Along the plainly marked truth of these separate worlds,
the lone islander toes exhaling waves
and stares for what seems an eternity
into an inner sea.
What else can be fished from such unfathomable depths,
but a glimpse of that cutting aloneness
DNAed to islands?