Locked

I probably ought not but I do.

Search for the stone, carcass, leaf,

That will sink into the sediment of me.

To be locked inside, encased, entombed.

Compressed by all above yet held by all below.

Tiny groans and fragmentations.

They belong to the mantle of me now.

And will forever more.

Until – I too become a cast.

And sink to an ocean floor.

A thing that briefly was.

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