Aug 122011
 
moves so that
among myriad
fast foams

she creeps leaving
a perforated trail
behind 

sleepily in gravid 
sand back
to the leaping sea

Humped above 
the scumline she halts
squats lays

her hidden egg-clutch
--Gulls
bugs at a bonfire

dive and feast
upon them as she retreats
echo by echo

to the sea--
Believe it or not
like an old pair 

of crossed shoes 
casually deliberately thrown
away they

mate in the surf!
one
atop the other

lovers
full of blue 
bloods

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