LAND’S END
Provincetown
Zero ground, fickle sandbar
where graves and gravity conspire,
Beer bottle amber and liquor green
surrender their killing shards.
Like ashes, dust, even glass
turns back into what it was.
Skeletal driftwood and seaweed hair
beg for a body. Any body.
Yet all you see is surf out there,
simply more and more of nothing.
If you must leave us, now or later,
the sea will bring you back.