At a time when sound no longer sizzled through the air . .
no smells. . .
when all things swung to the rhythm of shovels, carving holes in the ocean for a dog i once loved;
who slid weightless down inside . . . and for me,
her infinite yellow eyes in only five years passing to forget
how tight the water closed around the sunlight pressing to get thru . . .
in here was a stillness I will never comprehend
without a drink.
© Jeff Thomas 2009
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