By M. Drew Williams
It was a mistake to think we could
make it to the end of the boardwalk
before its planks disintegrated
into pale specks that spiraled
down toward the quarreling tides.
I likewise fell, awkwardly as you’d
expect, but not into the water—
Before lurching awake, I fell the way
a curtain falls on a doomed musical.
Beside me in bed, wet and awash
with sawdust, you remained asleep,
still swimming amidst the debris.
M. Drew Williams is a poet who currently lives in Key West, Florida. His chapbook is forthcoming from Leaf Garden Press.