Pebble.
The sea uncurls
shines and shoots
like hot solder
up the slope of beach.
The sand springs
tines of grasses,
wind-curved
to rake the air.
This stone, found perfect.
I toss to tumble
through the flare of sky.
It flies a moment
then smacks back
into my palm.
My fingers stroke
the sea-smoothed skin.
Grey as remembered eyes,
flecked and freckled,
smooth as the skin
on the inside of her arm.
Exploring fingers
discover a scar
a blemish too small
for eye, but the nail lodges.
All things are marred.
The fruit’s corruption’s
inherent in the seed.
I cast it
back into the scour
and rinse of the sea.
A bright flower
of shining water blooms.
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