Carry Me to the Tide

Your ribs aren’t my fortress anymore,
but I don’t know what else to believe. Our brains
and hearts are both forcing us to find patterns,

connections in everything– Since we can’t
discern what to trust, trust calm energies
and breath, keep all exits open wide—offer anyone

to the wolves. Find red clay, press to the sides
of day passing, dreamy phantoms linger in the breeze,
listen: They tell the story of a boy who leaves

his arms wide open, a girl who is the wrong
shade of turquoise, how the mediums clash, curls
against tangerine flames. I hear it’s more stable

falling into eyes than jumping into the heart
feeling muted, held back or trapped hiding
under the smoked remains, dilution of the self

with every dream given up– He releases chains
of her curls across Lake Michigan, they tangle
through his fingers, wrap around all the tendons

forming words into lies, pushing back–This is my
favorite game: waiting to see which path the words
will take, become his ruptured mouth… It’s been

four years waiting for his vessel to blip the radar,
tripwire flood for all the answers I need chipping
away with every green sweep, him out lost at sea.


2 thoughts on “Carry Me to the Tide

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