Languor (redux)

His word, his breath,
Are merely synecdoche —
Ephemeral.

Nothing is true in the true
Sense of the word.

He drifts on the Lethe,
Intoxicated by water that transforms —
A trip into languor —
And never sets foot on the other shore.

“It turns out you can kill the earth,
Crack it open like an egg.
It turns out you can murder the sea,
Poison your own children
Without even thinking about it.”

— Michael Sims / “Who Will Tell Them?”