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dead reckoning.

picking up her pulverised bones,
neatly sealed in a plastic bag,
raking in handfuls of sand
on the beach
and setting it all airborne
hearing your feet hesitate,
saying ‘perennial’ for the sake of
saying something,
and allowing yourself to be hurt,
to be forgiven
and welcomed
in a place where
you probably don’t belong.


Enthusiastic photographer. Loves stories too.