Sea-Sure

While on a beach he dreamed of sea-sure gulls, Each remembered fondly, Tip-Top full, With gravelled eyes. . He held the hand that seemed to be his future, Some Morphic guise, -ful of sand and absent feature, While minutes, hours, days and clocks all spilled Over sides of fate-cupped, hardened palms, Through doomy cracks between locked fingers. . He wished to ball his fist, To shove, What was left Of life, not love, Willed and psalmed and lingered, In his pocket, away from picking, pecking, fish-starved flocks. . He was afraid though, when he grew brave, It would be Just dust And he would be Unteethed and teetering At an eyelet grave. . And so he watched the grains go And the birds ate as he went too.