The ocean crashes and I dodge jellyfish
carcasses, bloated, white and ****** like
loose spittle, drenched across the sticky sand.
I hop over this dead thing, so limp, so fragile.
Then, I see it. A black shine. A giant pupil.
Turn it ‘round in my hands and the rock is
smooth as plastic feels when wet.
Black, contrast, battered soft and hard
by the tumultuous waves that had
birthed it from existence into a sandy, shallow grave.
Oblong, like and oval smashed,
I slip the rock into my pocket,
sinking pink toes into mushy
wetness as the salty water laps at my thighs,
chilling them.

It's OK, the sea is here.
Yes I know she raised the cup skywards
In a menacing toast
Of the blood that will undoubtedly be spilled.

I know she had claws
On the ends of her probing fingers
Sheathed in shiny blue.

I know the cotton was not soft
That white does not mean innocence
That even seasoned She would be surprised
But it's OK, the sea is here.

I know that when the sun rises in the morning
It rises not with you, not before you
But after you.

I know you are awoken
By lacy pillows and fishnets and flying horses
And tendrils spilling from the wall.
But it's OK, the sea is here.

I know you watch the children playing at its edge
Not with the vigilance of a mother
Not with the wistfulness of a virile maiden
Not with an air of kindred playfulness
But with a dank knowledge of what life can be
A deep sadness, a nostalgia for something never had
Or had too much.

I know you long to sit on windowsills
Bathed in blue shadow, and watch
The man across the garden
Who always turns his light on
At exactly
10.33.

I know you watch the ship drawing closer to the horizon
And think of your driftwood wand.

I know how you long to wade into the waves
Bury your feet in mounds of beach stones
And stand there for all eternity.
I know you know you won't.

You know you'll stand up,
Turn your back to the wind for the moment
And head east.

I know you'll feel its pull
Especially on the full moon
And sometimes you'll come, but mostly you won't.

But in those moments when it catches you
Unawares
In the kitchen, a scent
In the bedroom, a noise
In the living room, a movement
In those moments, remind yourself
That it's OK, the sea is here.

he watches as his life set ablaze
with morphine and fireworks
29 candles and a red tent
that was an accident

he spoke with bated breath but now
with vigor and bravery
freedom and fear
and it's not your fault

he walked as his legs protested
with medicine and cigarettes
a camcorder and a cane
they maybe one of the lucky ones

he swam with a set intention
saltwater burning
putting up a fight
he's never felt so alive
for once he'll finish something
it was a happy one

and there's no tragedy in that

Saltwater Poet.
Waves washing over me cleanse my soul.
Salt-soaked sand glues itself
to my skin,
it clears the cobwebs in my cluttered mind.
Anchoring back near the coast
is my ultimate goal.
Reaching others through my words
with the help of my
Nautical Muse.

They always tell me,
Blood is thicker than water:
But the salt in me
Is the salt of the great sea
Tied of ropes thicker than blood.

Everything ****** a hole in the memories of who you were

A mother, teacher, best friend, patient

My eyes start to betray me as it allows the grief to flow freely through the mountains of denial

The denial that you weren't here just a second ago and gone the next

Its just salt water isn't it?