amStrand: ground into sand

break away from louder company to fall
back in my hammock on th hollow'd shore
before hot wind dies down into stale air

at full sluggish tide a sea of oil gleams
flat under th blue half-moon tangled fast
in branches hung with sickly midnight

aimless motion by any other name would not
rock you to sleep nor shake me awake but nudge
us lovingly over th crumbling cliff's edge

i play catch-up at best & at worst i second-guess
my truest instincts false to prop th mute
fractured fort 'round th wary waiting child