After a hurricane,
the air is different
and so reverberates
the sea. After a hurricane,
the water is dense.
I lay floating—
carried by salt—
thinking about weight
and the lack thereof.
After the hurricane,
nothing is right.
The weight of my body
on the waves
does not compare
to the weight
on my chest
in your
absence.
Mar 28, 2016
Mar 28, 2016 at 1:05 PM UTC
After a hurricane,
the air is different
and so reverberates
the sea. After a hurricane,
the water is dense.
I lay floating—
carried by salt—
thinking about weight
and the lack thereof.
After the hurricane,
nothing is right.
The weight of my body
on the waves
does not compare
to the weight
on my chest
in your
absence.
