Secrets

the black tide rises
as I lie in the sand
awash in the muck
of the dirtiest hand

I still see the fingerprints
embracing the small china doll
I lift her to my face
and smash her against the wall

seething rages
calmer stages
never ending whirlpool

utter loathing
more uncloathing
rust-encrusted jewel

the iron gate slams shut
when the crystal door appears
but the tunnels bright white light
is something less to fear

– 07.1998
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