The dried slime
on long boards of the dock
shells opening in muck
not far beneath.

Perched at a meek beaten slab
staring at the merciful water.

Cracked lids and the guilty hammer
distributed by awesome electricity
throughout the moonlit embankment.

Daggers drying in the pouch
of secret minerals.
Arms crossed over
two overactive hearts
a barn door's frosted repetition.

Suns of the distant skies
lost in the dance of fibers
the upturned rump of eyes
stump satisfied with one.