There is a face at the very bottom of this sea
coral, shells cupping her cheeks
loved the beach
so much she wanted to put waves in her hair, wanted
to be part of the universe that
                                   requires no legs.

For all we know, the oceanfloor
could be the sky
of some other universe
and swimming fish make up the cosmos.

                                                   Saltwater burns


                       the sea
                               so you can see.

All we are; I implore you
Come out
Come out

Isolation is icy
Useless frozen wrenches

All we are
Smartthings with hearts
Opposable thumbs & firethrowers

Isolation is icy
The Pope of Murk & Decay

All we are
Every fiber of DNA and
Every lost phone number on a napkin

All we are
Overgrown starry eyed babi  es
Happy birthday candles

All we are,
The cemeteries of our parents
Drain holes at the oceanfloor

Isolation is icy
Now,
          melt.

It is August
but I have your shirt pulled up to my nose
like your scent will
protect me from another bad night.

I wear it as a turtleneck
and tuck my arms inward, making a blanket.
I am so sick of
              not feeling safe.

I remember asking you to use the tip
of your fingers on my
shoulderblade
caress the flesh into small waves
(You live too close to the sea to not taste
of salt)
then fabric wrinkled in a bundle.

Make me guess what the skinstrokes mean.
I am learning braille
or just how not to be alone.

I am so tired of
              waiting to know what you drew

when the sun is so high
shadows can only be cast on the oceanfloor
and everything above my clothes
breathes (I love you
too much to not taste of salt).

When summer ends
maybe I will get a good night's sleep, held
by seaweed and
reading your messages out of a bottle.

These are some of my
Almost-midnight thoughts,
Lurking under dimly-lit surroundings,
Trailing behind as if shadows.

These are the thoughts
That resurface from the pitch-black bottom,
Much like how bubbles make their way
Up to the sea from the depths of the oceanfloor.

These are the thoughts,
The ones I've been struggling to put down,
Much like a crazy person flailing about
While the doctors and nurses try to restrain him.

Almost.
I almost ended it.
Almost.
But then again, here I am.

Trying to make things work.

I realised
I can never sell my poems

How many pledged to give away their living
They hung him on a tree
The other day, I saw him bleeding

There was a cat for eternity
How did they get him to hang from a noose
After all, they were afraid

Death held him by the wires
Hardly satisfied, lithe
He began

Killer instinct got him by the knees
The man fell to the oceanfloor
Stealing fish from the ocean quite often

He slept with the clairvoyant Sosotris
Never selling his prophecy for yellow fog