The return would be to here on the edge but not too close to the edge but close enough where the
breaking of waves but not so close that balance is lost though mist is felt against the arms’ flesh near the
crook of the elbow in that bend or at that angle where I’d step in so close this time you would not be able
to breathe it would be your turn to not breathe and none of this was planned. Not even the carpenter ants.
Although if I allow my mind to wander off balance again to the bend the only bend on the island where we
were warned not to go it’s in the brochure no one has been saved who falls in here the undertow and
feldspar but just the same aren’t we willing to descend.
Previously published in Insectum Gravitis(Main Street Rag 2019)