i am awoken by the sounds of rain thundering down onto the patio outside the window of what used to be my room
dragging myself from the warmth of bed, i go through the motions of pulling on clean clothes and brewing coffee
pausing for a sip, i take a peek around around the corner of my laptop, and find that the pond has flooded
water laps further up the stone steps like a hungry ocean, and rain continues to fall
waiting for the flood, like it will smooth out all my jagged edges, i imagine myself as a fish
maybe a trout, caught by a starving man, held aloft in strong hands as the hook is pulled from my mouth
and when that knife slips down the seam of my tender belly, i’ll welcome the gutting, because it’s him wielding the blade
take from me what is of use, and discard the rest, like plucking thin bones from between your teeth, and i wonder if you’ll think of me then
when the reaching and pulling, and dragging arms of the ocean i willingly walk into, take me into the mouth of that verdant beast
and the house floods, sends coffee mugs and empty bottles tumbling, smashed on the rocks of this longing
and when the rain lessens just enough for sunlight to arc out across the expanse of that endless sea that stretches from one end of the horizon to the other
and you’re out there on your paper sailboat, you’ll realize that we’re under the same blazing sun once again, and smile like you do, just for me