Note Fingered to Sand

Fort Island Trail Beach, Crystal River


Break your callus, across plain:

A point-of-no-return impact we

Made—I didn’t know it then.


It was real in the sand with fingers

Spread wide. Wrote a note to myself,

You’ll be OK.


Cold sidewalks in December: Christmas

Lights, like auras, fringe and sparkle—

Well-lit, caught in the corner of eyes.


Walk scrapped knees,

Across plain:

Of all light, spread beams

Widen to cross me—

I didn’t know it then.


I’m not waiting with blood down my shins,

Tripping, stubborn I am.


Rubbed-wrong wrists and scalded palms

Held-fingers closed, into a fist; I am…


A wrapped promise,

Saved for myself,

To keep warmth in.


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