sea/earth

Jealousy burns; seethes through my chest.

Seeping into the hollow of my stomach,

it runs a gauntlet through my breasts,

piled high but grafted to thin bones.

 

I whittle away, because you’re almost here, but just about gone.

I must learn to sing euphorically;

to jelly roll into the sea.

 

Water snatches at discarded ropes and crab pots.

You circle awkwardly like a drunk shark,

a sea crown jammed on your head.

 

Hills roll into the water,

you turn into driftwood,

light scratches at the gap between the door and the floor

and I taste the opening of the earth.

4 thoughts on “sea/earth

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