Puddle plotting
tears against time.
It’s easy to bet backwards
and bend backwards
Anticipate drowning
Before coal black clouds
align.
Inside my gut recoils from trust
and on some beach
sand castles melt to mush
from flooding.
My heart
sprung a leak an ocean’s breadth.
And spat you out -a dark and dirty mess of muscle
Tossed upon the shore, some
Shattered ancient thing bruised too
Ugly to hold from drowning,
A cancer, a sea
sickness.
The shape of your feet
Fill puddles on my beach.
And when our story has been told
I’ll live this tide with no one’s hand to hold.
