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Our trajectory is unknowable, you
tell me: the planet
corkscrews around the Sun, sure,

but the Sun corkscrews around
a black hole at
the heart of the Milky Way,

and our whole galaxy travels on
some mysterious, incalculable vector. But sister, I
saw a photograph in

which two whale
sharks were brought to
heel by men in simple reed boats just

off the coast of the Philippines.
All that they had
to do was often feed

the whales gallons upon gallons
of frozen shrimp, poured from
plastic garbage

bags into their six-foot
gaping maws to portside.
Gargantuan, sure, but still

as obedient and eager for food
as backyard squirrels. I
remembered a grainy

internet video—I saw
it probably seven or
eight years back—in which

a captured whale shark
was winched
ashore in Madagascar, or

maybe it was the
Philippines again—no matter—
the thing still had life left

in it and struggled to
breathe while a crowd of
people gathered around—there were

women carrying babies,
girls holding baskets atop
their heads—and then the

men came with a long slender
blade and sliced clean through
the whale’s spine, vivisected it

right on the dock, and
the onlookers stood there quite
unfazed—I remember

being shocked at
the effortlessness of the cut,
the pinkness of the whale’s blood,

and the boredom in the onlookers'
eyes. Our father
took us down to San Antonio

on one of his business
trips there when we were five
or six—I think

you were probably
too young to
remember it—

it was when you and I
saw the ocean for the first
time. We drove down

to the Gulf of Mexico,
and we saw waves breaking
out near the horizon in pale

sunlight. I kept
scanning for a dorsal
fin off beyond

the breakers, thinking
that I might spot one—
sandy brown, mottled with

cream spots and glistening—so
that I might be able to
say to you, pointing, “look,

sister, there is a whale
shark!” Years
later we would learn

that he traveled down
to San Antonio so
frequently because he was a

philanderer. As a child I
believed that whale sharks
crisscrossed the ocean following

paths that we couldn’t
fathom, that
their concerns were

somehow beyond our
comprehension, but then
Keppler pinned down

the shape of the
Earth’s orbit over four hundred
years ago,

and the lives of ancient
sea titans are sundered

by men with indifferent faces.
he had a special place in my heart, though he had it all.

As a kid, I admired all the celestial bodies that I can put in pages, I can see how the constellations are connected to my veins and how the moon is shaped like your eyes.

The more I grow older, the further I learn to wander in the garden, a wilderness where the islands haven't been named, parallels have intertwined and orbits that have once collided.

Oceans were calling me to test its depth— the calmness of it reminds me of you, the stillness of it brought terror as the deep waters are not moving. you're a scenery in a post card that I could receive but not enough to love me.
mel 6d
these days i feel like water. like an ocean cusping on the marked line of a horizon. like a droplet riveting and rolling, making its way down to pool onto a ledge.

the slightest nudge, a gentle push
and i'd spill over.

sitting dangerously on the lip of the cup
teetering in and out of balance-

it is a game of give or take

i bend myself backwards into a crescent
just to make room for their full mooned selves

i wonder how Neil Armstrong felt
when he took his first step onto the dusty crater ridden plain
and found himself


i am


destined to listlessly twirl around my own axis dreamlike
but not like a dream at all
floating miles away from the person i have yet to unearth
but yet not far enough to fly among the stars

i am held by the centre of my own gravity

is that why sometimes i can hear my bones creak under the weight of the person i was supposed to be?
mel 6d
you rose up from the murky depths
breaking the surface of stilled waters
disturbing tranquil oceans and calm seas

at first, a gentle ripple-

rolling roiling reeling
collecting bones of sunken ships
pulling pieces of dredged up memories
along your wake of destruction

you turn yourself inside out
          and over
                          and over

into crested waves
crashing into my sandy banks

wash away all my self control
and resistance built up over pent
disappointments and picketed frustrations

the past engulfs me;
heat of your skin pressed against mine
lips pursed in anticipation
of the last time you said you loved me

flood my lungs
for i think i'm running out of air
to breathe into this mirage.
mel 7d
once a month
when you see the moon
basking in the glow of her lunar lunacy

her belly filled to the brim with stardust
hauling the drunken songs of sailors
to her like a tide

i hope you think of me.
mel 7d
wounds winding the
drawstrings of my heart
closed shut. sharp tongued
words twisted right into my
tight lipped barnacled edge
trying to pry me open.
cracked ajar salt water flushes
flooding nicked skin bled red
into soft pink flesh tip me
over slid out of shell and
swallow me whole. tell me the
last time someone left a sweet taste in your mouth
and i will eat the clock.
Gabrielle Sep 5
My home sits atop a lonely wave
Basking in the sun
My home of flora and sturdy nave
Of which I am a nun

Lilies grow in white quartets
Jasmine from every crevice  
Spiders sew their thoughtful nets
Dust on every surface

Here my pilgrimage ends
At the waistline of the coast
The lemons that became my friends
Will now observe my ghost
Gabrielle Sep 5
There’s stormy seas ahead they say
The clouds grow like mould in the sky
Batten down the hatches, mayday!
The curtains start to fly

Close the windows against the applauding rains
Lock the door, get buckets ready
But the dread won’t reach my veins
I am strong, I am steady

I have a life raft, small and warm
One bed, one bath, one key
It keeps me safe from any storm
And even the entire sea
Take the Fragrance from the Flowers
and the Garden will lose its Charm.
Take the Hands away from the Clock
and Time won't ring an Alarm.
Take the Violin, from the Symphony
and the Dance Floor begins to Sigh.
Take the Rain, from the April Showers
and the Ground will begin to Cry.
Take the Tidal Waves, from the Ocean
and the Waters will be Calm and Still.
Take the Landscape from the Mountains
and the Sun won't set behind the Hill.
If U take away My Heart.
The beatings are still there Within.
I'll Love U forever and ever,
As your Heart is neatly tucked In.
lua Sep 1
can i be a seashell?
part of a whole
forgotten, buried in sediment
slowly chipping away
and turning into sand

can i be a seashell?
found amongst the grain
an incomplete half
yet kept solely
because they found me pretty

can i be a seashell?
a collector's item
displayed on a shelf
collecting dust

it's better than wasting away
only to get kicked up
or thrown in someone's eyes

i wish i was
a seashell.
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