I’ve said it before
there are ships in my bones
but you know what
these bones are the ships
that sail against the map
against the idea of arrival
I have to protest against
the cruel arithmetic of this world
I have to stay alive inside
the sentence that wants to end us
the blood would change the address
this body has become an exile of song
when I be cold
I’ll sit near you without words
I think the heat moves on its own, maybe
the tide knows how to pull us together
cause a sea remembers our ribs