ISSUE 1.4
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Gale
I shouted, take me furtheron the grey schismatic sea
oceaned where I can’t discern the dark heft of my body from its breath
each precise impingement
etched in my pliant skin further, into silver liveried light
where each unruly instance
was wind & wind & wind
shirring the rampant spirit from its lung
sailcloth sacked in the maelstrom kelp in its seams of salt
the rockshore laved, heretical
we lawless to each other as the sea
I called out break or give meto or from myself
we pressed toward the far unyieldingspindled star
I bent my eyes toward the weldlight
one blue point to harbor my dissent
but freighters tacked the shorelineyou at the bulkhead balkedboats drew in their gill nets
I watched as the white museum shut its wings
and you avast my promisorwith your sheetsyour holdfast hands
what of the coraclewhat of the cormorantwhat of the waterbirds’ dream
how they stand aghast on the pilings
now that the sign on the boathouse reads no wake