A Soft Walk

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/ death/ dad

Understanding mortality.

A soft walk upon the leaves
a listening for the dog under trees
while cat and fox squirrels watch us listen.

I feel the pull of a trawler's ropes
         the need to watch the water boil
         the expectations of the pocket
         the need to see sea-hogs roll
         the pain of hard-head fins buried in thumbs.

The murmur of the preacher is drowned
by the buzz of a mercury seaching
for a spot to fish.

I watch the cork bobble
until it is jerked out of sight
by the preacher urging me to reach down
for a bit ground and toss it to my father.

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