Bottle
My message was written on paper, tightly
rolled up in a scrolled style, and placed inside
mouth of wine bottle.
I pulled back my arm, bottle in hand,
and relinquished it with a force only I
could muster.
As it sailed through the air it hissed at the wind,
my notes life enlivened with bile, and the wind
knowing it would poison water.
The splash was whispered in hollowing air
and the collision of glass with sea surface
could almost be said never to have happened.
I pondered the universe as it floated away,
but stopped my thought process when it was
forced back to me by wave after wave.
The beach hugged it, and indented it in sand
and I pulled it up into my arms and was
indebted to the beach.
My message was filth, meant to harm its
holder, and I did not want to force that
hate on anyone,
even if for a moment,
I did.
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