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become water

Like us, the tide is seeking a cove Where it doesn’t need to be obliging. Love In its secret cave may rise and fall To its own moon: the beck and call Of the sea won’t be heard. The cliff face Runs its mascara, such tears of disgrace

As leave the rocks with purple stains. It is clear the sky has taken pains To shoo such clouds away as might Freckle the foreshore from a great height. The tide’s scandalous incompetence Is complete: the sea runs out of patience

With every form of rock and pool – This tide of love has never bent to any school But ebbs in its own petulant way: The way art or water does, you say; The way all things that are fought for Settle in a hidden cove and accept water.

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