CAESURA

The rough lull between one wave and the next.
The smooth roar makes us forget:
Something larger always crests.
Down we go. Falter in the dark salt.
Stand. Smile. You’re all right.
Nature likes a flailing about,
Crack in the castle, crumbled
Moat. Wait out the wave. Dig.
A hole big enough to hold the world.
Someone you love is dead.