Untitled Ribs

The ribs of clouds above the bay, lilac waters and gray smoke. The barrier island, a thin strip of black. Above the sap of the ribs leak out incarnadine shading to orange, pink and pale yellow.

Portrayed in the yellow slits peaks of cloud. A savannah, a cream field, leaking paler blue. A blue breeze touches all this crag and scrap of land. I abut on ocean tides.

In the waves come peeling grayly. Curling silver and holding glimmers of the sky. Ribs drifting and slicing open. Often pickup trucks move by squarely.

A glistering airplane going through phases of sunset; an auburn-orange little boat slicing the metal of the wavs.

The bicycles, the throbbing water. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Silver waves keep curling in. On the horizon the colors darken, and the ribs of clouds look now like lines in raw fish meat.

Sliced wide open.

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