I've always hated the beach but I've been going every week and soaking myself in salt water because I keep thinking I'll see him on the other side of the ocean. I like to watch the blues and greens beneath me and imagine it's his eyes. I look up at the sky and envision his fingertips dancing on my back like droplets, his lips running along my shoulders. Sometimes I think I can swim to him, like maybe if I held out my hand far enough I could reach him.

"I know I'm not the man for you
I just love you too much to accept it."

I dreamed of my father
crossing the fields
on his one-eyed tractor
mowing acres of sadness
heading east of a moon
that'll be gone tomorrow
and I waded the creek
beneath a ridge
where my mother is shearing
dead roses and the smell
of those flowers floating
to the foot of the mountains
reminds me of her hair
and my father's laughter
disappearing across the hill.

he only thinks you're
pretty when you cry
when the aching
vulnerabilities sting
like red welts along
cheeks that are
white as teeth
only then are you pretty,
when the red blood
tears fall like soldiers in
the war of peace and
he kisses the place the
bullet exits
he promises he will
still love you as the lion
that murders the lamb
when the sky bleeds,
crimson echoes down
mountains of death
his viper hands
snake round your
hips and you just
don't mind, you just
don't mind anymore