at the solitary gull
perched on a craggy rock.
The sea, like undulating slates
of purplish steel,
or bruised rust,
while a glaring wound
of a sunset poured scarlet ribbons
from its Martian gash.
The gull flies away, a dilating comma
with unknown plans.
it was nearly impossible to bear,
all this beauty and sadness,
the feathery crux of registered crushes,
excruciate in their due course
of perishing, and remembrance.