Indigo the Distance

 ink bleeds

blue

through

to the other side

as if 

to insist

the words be remembered

daring

there to be some meaning

behind their backwards

arc and impression

they show through

like tips of curling waves

on a horizonless 

spans of sea

always licking up

to the sky

then sinking

back into the surge

The rhythm

on and on

without any shore

in sight

only the sound

of each 

word

slapping

another

echoing

in the early air

I can almost smell

the brine

as they spill

edge to edge

the written world

flat on the page

round in the mind

What lingers below

waiting to breach?

how long

can the muse

hold her breath?

ah 

hear

an inspiration

gasp

before another

deep

dive

into

unknown

blue

NaPoWriMo Day 6