Isaac Lyon-Freedman: The Glass Eye

Isaac Lyon-Freedman

With Chamomile eyes

He sinks in the sand

His fingers wrapped around a bouquet of wilting flowers

A bridge standing between him and the sea

As his life drips from his mouth

To the core of the world

Leaving a trace in every vein and every being

The wind gives one final wave goodbye

Before pulling him beneath the foam

And with that, he is gone