to choose to die.
Strange to think of swimming in
to the shallows
scraping the soft grey skin
feeling the tide strain to pull you back
towards its black-blue embrace.
Pressing on
to the burning light, the heat,
the eternal sun.
The asthmatic gasping
the salty thrashing
and all five hundred pounds of grace
expended along the shoreline.
At night, Brody walks alone
into the sea.
Past him,
the dolphins swim
to strand themselves
upon the sand.
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