By Ella Grim
Art by Milanne Berg
In the doldrums of winter,
everything is laid bare,
dissected.
Ships
confuse candles
for lighthouses;
No body
tries
to mend the wreckage.
The sea
waxes tempest
and wanes serene.
Sirens
on a bleached beach
wail and signal
But the sailors are gone.
Sunk.
Calcified.
The sea suffocates,
pounds on the cliffs.
By the lighthouse
she
documents her torment:
The poet's power
is the
poet’s curse.
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