Liveaboard

I retreat to the cradle

of my floating home,

wear sea-salt sheens

like a grained pearl.

The dreams I keep in

my kelp nebula churn

marina waters, burn

the bay with motors

idle and rusted. The

rolling seas sync up

with sleep waves,

rock me in the arms

of the rotted dock,

saved from sinking.

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A Song I Stole From Wounded Knee