black lash ͡ longing the turn
over seas ͡ the helicopter’s landing
gear its boom ͡ and lens and men
and a vision ͡ mixer switching
to the bloodshot ͡ birdseye of the spill
that tender blister ͡ of oil brightening in the sun
with all the beauty ͡ of a backlit retinal scan
indicating where I can ͡ should I wish
look death in the eye. I wish ͡ I could have been there
to kiss close the sea for you ͡ lay every coin across
its one dead eye ͡ you swallowing a love you
on the inbreath ͡ as if this were painful
as the broadcast cuts ͡ to teens on the beach
each ͡ sponging a glossy seal pup
as the helicopter ͡ lost earring glittering
at the reporter’s shoulder ͡ lifts
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