Transition

They say that Time cleanses
Wounds, like waves lick the shore,
But my chest is charred by memory,
My flesh has scars like carcass
Seething from within the skin
Like fresh blisters, or splinters
That won’t surface from the tissue
Of my fingers

I cannot see fishes in this sea
I said
It is black as oil and thick as night
I said
Don’t you know the blind must be led?

And I have found no oysters
But shovels to carve the ground
With holes as wide as bodies
Of water, where I lay my dreams
To drown

There is no warning to treason
But I forget
Life cannot be fought with reason
But I forget