REM Stage 6: A Poetry Blog || julie niklas

And he seemed confused
that the sea was so far away
and immense stretches of sand
the kinds of volumes that
can’t be counted in handfuls
sprawled between him and the water

when years later
after spurting from the waves
like a bloated flying fish
he awoke in an unmown pasture
with nothing but green
and a senseless portrait of the sky
chigger-bitten and the only
still thing in tall grass.

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