I want to rest on the shore
until the urchins break skin
and the salt seeps in.
Salt that swells my eyes shut.
Salt that makes pain worth swallowing.
Salt of injustice boiled over.
The seas are rising.
The cold tides will drown me
in their froth and churn.
Why stand? The bleak horizon
holds no promise of light;
The mighty waves erase
all human endeavor.
What wayward ship will find its way
by the Pale Blue Dot of my eyes?
What slender hope
keeps me here, caught between
the depths and the shallows?
Night begins to draw its curtain on me.
The audience has gone home.
For whom do I empty myself?
There is a spark in me that leads
to the place our dreams belong;
What good to guess at the future?
These questions are wet matches
I strike at over and over.
How many to set the world ablaze?
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Andrew Posner is the CEO of Capital Good Fund, a nonprofit lender. He has had his poetry published in several journals, including Burningword Literary Journal (which nominated his poem ‘The Machinery of the State’ for the Pushcart Prize), Noble/Gas Quarterly, and The Esthetic Apostle.
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