by ZAC EATON
Who searches for who?
These tracks still steep
The waves always held ya on the downfall.
And the sand’s still soft.
Feet go by themselves,
From beach to beach
Sniffing in the salt,
Thinking of the words I said
That summer. Brisk speech
Against your warm smirk.
Murmurs of the crowd cut
By your sweet chuckle.
Still the same steps,
Down to the sand.
Did they lead you to the great expanse?
Children laugh beach to beach.
They’ll walk like me one day,
Earphones in, thoughts paused
By the moment at the top of stairs,
Seeing the land meet the water,
Meet the end of the world.
Who searches for who,
When bodies turn to
Cliffs, rocks, water.