nisa

tiny, tiny veins

scour the city of Heart.

the wall in there

is sacred red,

fired by

pump of giants.

the sea is black and blue

and violet in spots

of mushy red vibration.

shake the waves they do

the rocks of the beach

of this poor little sandless ocean.

fire - red in your lungs, a

freakish ticklish obsession,

spit out air and magma

little gremlin of the east.

the waves rush,

now faster,

stone feels much squishier,

though at last, you still refuse

a prayer, and there

you are left

on the beach

hung by a plane

from the aeroport

in nice.