Oh, how sweet it would be to move
to safety, but I cannot
tear myself away.
I crave salt water today,
not on my skin but in my soul.
I’m a desert creature now,
but I need to wash the grit from my teeth.
Yes, I know the waters are weighted
and oil slick, as thick as dripping whales
gliding in ponderous silence.
Dazzling, this ability to muffle the sound
of my own heart.
It is bright, that unholy silence.
Quieting ever thing including the one thing
that is always,
always on the tip of my tongue.
Why is your pillow encased in frost each morning?
This is important.
Is it because you cling so tightly
to the night? Is it because
my love is not warm enough?
I clap my hands together
until the sound is exactly that of
coins falling into a parking meter,
of the world shaking itself loose of its axis
and then I raise my voice in song,
sustaining that one note until I can hear
the whoosh of everything that came before you
folding in upon itself
an origami seagull with practical wings.
I will it to fly away
and miraculously, it does
mirrored in the ocean below.