A Vulnerable Shoreline

by Richard King Perkins II

I can’t contend with you anymore;
the texture of your windows

the dark scarves of sophistry
fluttering across your face.

Eternity seems as brief
as a placid Sunday

soaking in
the blessings and afflictions

of television and refracted sunshine
on a sunken couch.

You could try to entice me
with fleshy exposure

and meaningful expressions
of connectedness

but you can’t or won’t
because your lechery has washed away

like a vulnerable shoreline;
like the semi-permanent color in your hair