A handful of sand freed to the wind lets loose, falling obliquely,

Not taken but surrounded by somewhere else —


It is the tinged lighting of eerily lit trams at 11pm

Running through unseeable streets like sand falling through cracks

And those spaces between are moving from night

From the cold and the restless to rest in trajectory

The electronic bell rings and the sound disperses

Resonating through air to drum on hollow ears

I stand at the beach to stop and to think

As waves continue to claw at my feet

I’m aware my toes are sinking in generous sand

And the wind doesn’t stay or sing, but dances

The boats at the dock continue to bop

Along with the perpetual tugging of tide

The moon will be orbiting, falling too slowly

To reveal its greatest illusion

Things always move in imperceptible ways

Too gradual to see but too fast to feel —


I know that the night will continue to lighten

Although it appears to stay black and surround


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