"Invitation" by Tria Wood

When are you going to move closer?
The space aches between us.
It invents its own language.

The jagged edge of the ocean
paints the sand dark,
retreats into its own swollen
urge, arcs forward to tease
the shore with the inexorable

inevitable that drives
my hands
into the unwritten dark
to pull the tide of you
over me.

Drown me,
roll me against you.
Make me your pearl.

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Tria Wood called us from Houston, TX.

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