“Faltering Flight” The Sunday Whirl #81

Salt-driven tears cry tumultuous waves,
struggling unswayed in remembrance upbeat.
Wrath unkindness shores this dim coast in
brittle-bone folly. Rotten-flesh carcasses wash ashore.

Charm-wisps brush cheeks in this crumpled sereneness,
short-breathed and trembled in favorite stone,
enabled in light from an underscored symphony,
lost in its shallow, yet rapturous thorns;
I scramble upright to cast fingers awakened,
point out this maddening in-solitude,
blind-beckoned depth, with nowhere to flee,
without clue or key to repair what is wronged.

The earth swells neglect from this solicitous seat,
and nothing remains of graven allure.