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August 2013

Rolling river reckoning

Built into sand you run for thee
Despise the tide and bite the sea
Rolling river reckoning

Calls of men might sheath night
Smell saplings bubble with poison and rye
Cry out to them “till’ we meet our maker;”
Weed out the culprit, expose the faker!

Gold and fire from the sky
A lingering plea with no reply
Perpetual signs of demons’ faces
Lost in binds of boundless spaces
Trembling masts release a sigh
It’s now or never, do or die
King of serpents must be at works
Glimpse heathen’s spell from darkness lurks

From great clouds’ forged humidity
Push waves aside, assail lucidity
Against all odds defy such beckoning
An augury forms, most sailors seconding

This shipwreck is mine
So toss it to me
Out into the ocean
My shipmates threw me

© 2013 Jacob G.
Elon University
Fayetteville, NC

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