duck killers

being afraid of loneliness,
or attempts to stay that way.
your hand reaching for summer, etc.
asking questions & not answering them
as a note
of depth
line dragging further away from shore line,
wondering where you draw it, a radius of hands
between spirituality & unkempt beard, involuntary fasting.
something goes awkward into the deep end,
where the un-cut-six-pack-plastic-rings—
forgetting the line, taut.
then noticing.