Digital Scholarship

The Cave of Hypnos: Early Poems

Tide

You move
like a winter tide
rolling on a belly
of sand.

Swirling over me,
fondling
the broken shells
of my sighs.

Lick my skin
with salt
and silt
before I
die.

Copyright © 2012 by Charles W. Bailey, Jr.

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The Cave of Hypnos: Early Poems