I can't swim
The tides to great
Whirlpools full or rock and slate.
The slate that my teachers hand expelled.
The slate my father storied well.
They whip their vortex waves.
Arrouse their youthful slaves.
Amassed in beauty
Scared stiff with rage.
From their farrowed hands
Clenched with rage.
Spitting and lunging
Awaking desire.
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