always there,
a long distant pulse
pushing in white against the surface of my skin.

my heart's red may never break within you,
but the surf roils
and roars
and the sand shore sighs.

circling and rolling
red-rich in hands never held
i feel the ghost of you,
distant,
on that thousand-mile coast

still wishing
still knowing
another's arms wrap'd round
yet with you on mine

disguised
ink-white
and mistaken for a scar

like all the maps of the heart.