Bottles wash ashore,
twisted paper inside them.
I decide to read,
and through scanning them
discover that there are arms
waiting to hold me?!
Maddened by the green
glass vessels that beckon my
eyes to their contents,
I grab them one by
one and throttle their wet necks
before I smash them.
They shatter and crack,
my paradise littered with
sharp, hidden edges.
When I least expect
my dancing feet to find them,
my soles are bloodied
and my gait is changed.
I damn those bottles- those dreams-
those arms that let go-
and wander into
the salty tide- fresh, new cuts
pounding with my heart.
