They come and go,
playing tag with the tide,
swimming in to touch
but the ocean is an elastic

to recall.

We came here once,
a love of youth’s illusions,
dipping our skinnies
before I lost you on a breath

without recall.

It comes and goes;
that tide, his touch, this time,
so many currents
congregating under clouds

that can’t be caught.


All words and photographs by Damien B Donnelly


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