Undoing

Trudge, side step, sweep

The tip of a calloused foot carves the cold white sand

Stomp, stomp, stomp

The figure goes on in its rhythmless dance

Against the cyclic waves

When it stops

If it ever will

It will suffer.

For it cannot bleed,

It cannot breathe,

And it will never make love. 

But for now,

It can do rituals

Until the sea engulfs it

In its embrace

Reluctant to let go

Of a tragic misstep in evolution