Moses

Like undulating black waves, our shadows, rolling against the yellow plaster horizon, knead together and apart like dough. Screaming sunsets come and go. Humid droplets roll and gather at the brink of this sheet gripping labor where the birth of a shuddering child, squealing and wet, calms the seas dying a slow rocking death. Shadows grow still as the plaster sunset fades and dims until the lines have all but disappeared. Like Moses' staff, bed frames slam down in response, and the waves of this sea come slowly drifting apart.