It would be nice to walk into the water at the dock, bathe in the newness of a head that doesn't hurt, thoughts that aren't wrong, to find keys that are more suitable than those I have thrown away, to end on a beach covered in white sand, an open mouth full of bugs and a black tongue, blank eyes, a heart that wants what it wants, disturbing birds about that look like tiny bishops and a fallen priestess, skin-eggshell white and sugary peach, pallid palms Heavenward, speckled chin, exposed ribs and breasts, sun shining beneath the littered, bloodred clouds, a scarred silence inside a soul is a sanctum, some things death will not undo, all of the faces turning away, decomposing arms and legs, white frost, bitter morning, God made the sunlight to shine on me and the others, a cove of tired dreams and insomniac rocks that look like teeth, a shovel and sweaty, dirty-faced, funerary laborers, a makeshift pine coffin, an ugly blanket, a perfectly frozen woman but still a woman.