Assisi: An Online Journal of Arts & Letters Volume 4, Issues 1 & 2 | Page 58

!
JOHN REPP

SEA
Sprint off the cliff, arms flung wide,
legs whirring in blackberry air
so the deep blue sea won’t swallow
but cradle you like the mother
due everyone in payment for being
yanked here. Her voice in sickness
mists your eyes. The mere thought
of her mouldering dress. Notes plunked
on the warped piano. Leap when Lucifer
thrusts his skull from the surf
so the salty tongue rolls you in.

!!Assisi!!!52!