return to the sea


slake thirst by sucking on iron words that turn to rust
just as soon as soon as my skin gives, that melted glass
where all smiles reflect. your mouth was full of salted
kale that grew along the stony path that i always knew
led to the shore. it’s the journey, the sifting sand
of our dune-walk, at times so difficult, that matters
most, when the moon pulls at us so strongly. the water
dropping from my eyes is not only for you, it is for
the tide inside me that these days always seem to ebb
where you are pulling at me (pull harder, pull harder)
and i do not drift, i am swept under the edge of the ocean
like a secret that must not be breathed within the cross-
current in my heart. where have all my sea-poems gone.
(to the sea, of course.)

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