I lie like flotsam on the shore.
The shallow green waves make patterns on the beach,
blisters and dark space. A backwash of brown glass.
Quicksilver fish kiss like lost pieces of memory.
I watch the bandages unwinding, stained yellow,
stiff with the hours of loose skin and razor sand.
Blue shadows chill in the gold dusk light.
I gather brown paper and worn shoes,
and walk into a storm of backlit mosquitos.