Carl Hauck
Sinking Ships
We ride through the north woods on a wave of CV chatterParading a false flag, eyes directed to the platterCaught like bread crumbs at the bottom of an ovenBaptismal reruns dancing like sugar plumbsSewn lips save sinking shipsAnd deaf bliss ripens foreign tidesBut when the poles shift, and the waters liftWe'll watch the rift grow and grow
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