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Wednesday, April 6, 2016

Ebb Tide






I am curled,
breech amulet 
that dispells faith,

derelict branch 
left dormant amid 
mollusk-laid sand;

a scab 

blistered by 
the host of
day-whimper.

Yet night blues 
cool
residual reds, 

burn stiff flesh
into dreams that 
scatter upon
smooth silk 
linen.

How gently I dip
beyond surrender

willing to rise
again when
called.




Pamela A. Lamppa 
Copyright © 2016 
All Rights Reserved
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