Last Wave by Pimone Triplett

No warning, the fissure, the wave, the wreck, reckoning. No warning, mantle’s woe unto trench maw, bespeaking mega thrust. And ocean receding, fish flapping in sand, silver. Till water curved its back, crashed, spurting stones, dogs, shards, children. Sky, sea, two spools unwinding in wet. Though tourists were in love, the building-sized blue arc above… Continue reading Last Wave by Pimone Triplett