The dusty stars above,
the stars in waves besides,
where the very sand is dust.
The bay is the night
inseparable from the stars
and the winding coastline,
the brilliant creatures tide-lined
in the black sands swirls
as we walk in their darkness—
star ash, beyond the life watch,
the dusty light of their spiral
away from the swish and spill,
the other walkers walking back,
holding hands, back to the
great swerve, to the gather
our dusty spark,
our little dark,
a glitter in their night.
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