Back arched enough to suggest architecture
Above the flow of old, oft forgotten legs
Taut as the rope tied to the loop of an anchor
Pulled so hard as to warrant cracking, hissing
And smoke.
But at the other end is something darker
Weightless so as to hold back nothing
Nevertheless sinking sinking sinking
And this gull perched on the mast won't cry
When Venice finally sinks.


Anonymous said...

my name's travis, I write really well


Moth said...