January 26, 2008

Vase final


by Eli Dvorkin

He took a handful of sand
from the beach in the heat
of the day while we slept
in the shade of the whale

that heaved and then did
not heave but our eyes did
not open but our noses did
fill with the reek of dead

and we awaken to find one
whale grey rotting to bone
taking with it our shade
and we redden

and we burrow caught
in hermit crab flight
as our fingers claw beach
we find it has changed —

he had taken one
handful away.

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