hope in forms of tropical storms
The ocean was death on july fifth.
Their waves were intimidating wars with each other.
I can’t even show you without showing you.'
it was a different beach.
And when I got home I felt like I survived something
I don’t know why
it was the watters’ battle
not mine.
But the next day it was the bluest,
like every other day before.
not even a fragment of evidence on the shore
& it was still strong.
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