If I were to swing
from Luna’s trapeze,
and trace Earth’s ribs
with the quills of
this mane, let my
knees finally give
atop Dolphin’s Smile,
the lip where the
moon suckles foam
I think they call it The Strand.
[Thank you to Christine Eldin for
asking me to write a poem including
the word "Strand." I really enjoyed the
spirit of her Before Sunrise challenge.
This one's for you, Chris!]
