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  • This place grits and drowns,
    Rubs hillside to stones,
    Shakes the earth off its bones.
    The river runs down
    Carrying trees in its haunches
    Having ripped away branches.
    They’re piled at the end
    Heaped in the sand
    Like burial mounds.
    The sea claims the earth.
    Eats shoreline away.
    Rocks become runes
    Then flatten
    And fade.
    Their message is sombre.

    “We come to this place
    And are stripped of our colour.
    We reveal the one face
    Before wind and water.
    Here we’re ground down,
    No final shelter.

    A tomb at land’s end
    Where dead husks gather.
    And wood becomes rock
    And clay turns to dust.
    What began as array
    Annihilates other.”
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