Cave In

Fool me once, love
and I wind up at the bottom of a glass.
Fool me twice,
and the conch shell's siren song is hard to ignore.

Even a cold river would do,
rock-lined pockets
with the wolf's ghost looking on in haunting approval
(because those who stray from the pack know the secret)

But then...
There is the go-on-living part,
soul-chipped, another jagged break against fine sand.

I can smell my nostril's salty burn
On this return
The ocean having already sold me her wares
right before my toes first tread hot patches tide will never reach.