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April 6, 2011

Yes, it’s the sea.

With its birdsong scattered like starlight

and those breezes– you know those breezes that

carry the sound of foghorns and halyards

from far away.


It’s the sea that holds it all together,

even when the winds pick up and

whip seagull cries around your ears and wide eyes

and with your face turned to the wind you catch

brief glimpse of memory like

the back of a hideous sea snake that you thought you’d escaped.


And we’d both stand on the shore and stare

as if intent alone could give us wings

or stop the restless fluttering that drove us forward.

That flutter of fear that drives people away.


Treacherous territory,

to be in two places at once. Both

on my stoop, and on a shoreline

where each one of those

damned bird cries makes the

smell of seaweed and

salt water

fill my head.


And then he’s there, with big arms.

And I’m above it all

watching my little red boat get

smashed by the waves.


That night I dreamed that I was standing on the beach looking for my little red boat

when an army of crabs surrounded me and this time there was nobody there.

Death, it seems, stalks even the young.

Even death by crab. Which is a painful way to go I’ve heard.


There were so many nights like that

dreams of waves and dreams of being swallowed,

nights of being woken up and

those strong arms lifting me out

through the window

and then we’d lie on the deck

with our life jackets on,

looking up at the star light.


But there were also those nights where my tears would drop

faster than I could cry them

like the sea itself was

demanding her payment for being made of so much water

That’s what you get, it said,

should have gone with the sky, it said,

then your days would be filled with dreams and your eyes would be light like the sun.


And I’ll slip off the deck

into the blackness and float.

Cold, salty unknown.

Your tears taste like blood;

my currents run with salt water.

One Comment leave one →
  1. April 6, 2011 18:27

    love love love you xxx

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