In the sound of the see

My spine of stones
stand in line
six and back to back

they interlock
as vertebrae
yet carry only lack

at water’s edge
they suffer tide
countless mornings through

but do so with
equanimity
immersed beneath the blue

they’re a caravan
within the desert
moving ever slow

the endless sand
their enemy
and how they each will go

returned to dust
as we all must
a skeleton no more

but years remain
to lose themselves
within this gentle war.

-Mahoe Bay, Virgin Gorda

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