LINES

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Look at these lines – fishing for compliments –
Hooked, they drag us back.
Leave us squirming on the dry bank:
Palpitating, bruised from the fight.

Removing the pin from the mouth
It’s a painful business. But worthwhile.
Who’ll throw us back in to sink or swim?

Alone, we wriggle to the edge then flop
The shock of contact leaves us breathless.

It’s hostile here. But we feel. We float
Freer here. No lines grab at us.

We just stay afloat, alive, and drifting.

 

1992

◄ These empty streets

THE LAST JUDGEMENT ►

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