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Waiting

Waiting with weeds of the sea
as if waiting at home.
Unfamiliar and slippery, grasping
and wrapping.
Settled on the sandy floor,
she does not remember
having skin so blue.

Waiting where he's left her.
Her obedient self.  Her placid self.
Marveling at the clarity of clouded vision.
At the strength in giving up.
Fearing no life
belonging where she does not.
Her dress is torn.

Waiting for enlightenment.
Or any form of light.
Uncomfortable in so much darkness
but no longer cold.
Learning to breathe,
she scratches gills
through heavy lungs.

Waiting to ask him
why, with hands of lead
he placed her, held her under the steady edge
of water.
Why he shared a pillow
but wanted a separate universe.
Wondering when he'll come home.

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