Jan G. Otterstrom F.

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VERSE B

From my position, a mirage
dewy veil of ocean sheen
illusion of my imaginings
taking me upon a sea
fathoms of marine, deeper
than memory, clutching boundaries
windy channels, dark alleys
cold drafts that lift, hairs of fear
near crowded corners, warning chimes
dominant tonic of evening, circle of fifths
danger of repressed reefs, moments
hidden in folds of waves, wet bent words
diverse, left unsaid, in chambers, toll and echo
conversations, reduced to nation’s verse.

Jan G. Otterstrom F. 6/16/2012