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This poem is taken from PN Review 176, Volume 33 Number 6, July - August 2007.

Five Poems David Morley

The Waves

My child grows beyond
his tipped turrets of sodden sand.

He recreates pure
impatient forms from seawater.

The castles dry in no time;
he, unaware of the lifting foam.

As water strikes his world's edges
it overwhelms small villages.

As language is tsunami.
It carves half-worlds we

live and die in. There this
comparison dries.

Language became a wave, a break,
an intricate flat world in its wake.
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