cul de sac

grey is the antidote
pink the keyhole
it is impossible to hate winter
holding close the laugh
the gulls over the graveyard
the yelling order of days
i don't regret the anything
the sand
ten months are glorious
even on
the beach & where it ends
where the gulls of winter
share the clock with the tide
you live with a sky
that whips your skin
and watches you sleep
with your clothes on