i thought i knew about
the waves,

i thought i knew about
the melancholy

of how the moon cycle
did curse the seas to

fold in and fold out
on command until

everything did pour out
onto the beaches;

exhausted.

a slave to cycles, they said!
well, the sea and a woman

they were always equal,
in that respect.

i thought i knew
about the internal

sense, how we do
anticipate tides of

distress to greet us
every so often by moonlight.

i expect it now; to
come home and weep,

but only by harvest moon,
and only by God’s hand.

so, here it comes,
the big one.

hormonal, chemical, awful
sickness; i wait for it.

no surfer skill could keep
me from falling prey to it.

nervous, so nervous
about the sea, pounding.

tricked into thinking,
that foresight was valuable.

that if i knew of its arrival,
i could yield, taste grass

instead of sands, coral
craggy beaches

where i am stranded
until spring rolls in.

so,

here it comes,
the big one.