The String Thread

The wire pulled taut slices the
sky in two proves the warm breeze
& broken ashtrays we’ve
gathered along w/carbonated
eyes & numb fingers

I told myself that it wasn’t going to
happen & then it did

the high cost of remaining intact

A pure indifference we learned
too late was all that we’d ever manage

Out on the pier a seagull says
something but we don’t speak
seagull as the sun slams down behind
the razor-feathered turquoise crest
of the last wave