The Beach Poem by D. Harris

sirens wail their songs
to the moon at midnight
on new year's eve
and we sleep alone,
clutching at memories //
and gods tell tales of the
voyages of men and,
as Odysseus dons beggars clothes,
waves brush away his footprints //
he is gone now, as we soon shall be
and this, this is what i shall remember:
(a death by water) //
long after i am gone,
after my footprints wash away
and my eyes sink into my skull,