Miss Butterjam (stratamajor) wrote,
Miss Butterjam

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I wrote this, tell me what you think.


The news is breaking.
Great stacked heights of close-set type are clicking importantly against each other, and
Activating like a set of tumblers -- spilling down onto the beach
In a cascade of ink and heated metal.

The steely letters catch a fierce glint of sunshine
As they jostle to the crest of every wave
And -- finally -- hold for just a moment at the final peak of the gnashing breaker
And curl under and into themselves as they surge toward the beach.

Hurling themselves onto the sand like salmon, and
In their final fatal moments, clinging there in breathless weightlessness,
Arrange themselves into a final desperate tableau, a glistening headline;
A string of letters kinking its way down the beach like a spine
Between the waterlogged seaweed and the dying jellyfish
And the unlikely glint of sea glass.

Until exhaustion and the irresistible sea
Claim them again, and they slide terribly back,
Back along the wet and shining sand,
Past the great beached editorials lying bloated and stinking on the beach
Swollen with sea water and self-importance.

The letters and words desperately holding their tenuous chain;
Ampersands and apostrophes clinging to the swooping parentheses
As the salt water swirls and the next crushing tower of flashing type
And scalded ink rises like a city above them.

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