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Sea Salt Rising There's six tea lights burning. Steam from the sea salts rising from the surface of my bath. I drip into the temperature. I sink into this. My head rolls to roll my thoughts over; finding other means of memory is what I am looking for. the laughter the sweet candy the French lullabies They flutter their wings, the fairies witnessing the mess inside my head. They feel the depth of this water. And if they crawl with me under, lost in a hot water bath, they can hear the noises that live between walls. Rippling. Like dolphins jumping out of water, I see the fairies fly out; scurrying through everything to get to the comfort tea lights. I follow them to the flame. the scent the safe place dripping here, inside my bath. |
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