In the waist-high wet,
our toes can give no more
than they have
And the black opaque
is plastered to my hips,
still
You try and try
for the soggy shore,
Tantalus
And there's a communism
about your unsmiling teeth
and all of you that glows
here,
Nearly naked in the pink light
We belong collapsed
over each other, bare backs
arched and splintered,
but, by god,
it's exhausting.
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