How It Is

How it is
small infinite pieces
which are a pleasure to walk on
and buoy the living

who dually course
the body of the seal
rotting in the sand
sea throwing up and back
the pounds of black

that face is gone
but a white mask of fat shines
and peers through cuts

come water, and wind
circling and eager
decay is a concert

the body is still shy
to the living, who deny
a delicious offering

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