r i g h t  h a n d  p o i n t i n g

 short poetry  short fiction   short...uh..art
 

 

     
  Gary J. Whitehead

Beach Combing

 



The sun warms oval stones.
Waves ruffle their plumage.
All along the shore’s edge
fledglings step into their bones.

My love bends her two legs,
picks shells, bits of old hulls.
Desire sails far on swells
and crashes into its eggs.



 

 

 

 

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