The undertow

The memory went all the way down thinking
Of the sea, remembered from its undertow.
The skin has an undertow, below the dermis
Protesting much about nothing, about things
Imagined like dogs running after cars in rain.

The sea has an undertow like what I remember
Of years ago , a fit of passion, at the full moon
When the pearl-white surf  became almost blue.
The skin blushes for nothing, no errors by bones.
It is  much like the sea, with a large undertow.
You never know the sins lying unpunished inside.

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