crying in three parts

the sea bore me during low tide.
my tiny body raced into the rocky shore,
and my back bled crimson and yellow.
it was here that i learned how to wail.

a set of arms curiously trace the scars. i
read this as love, and we sift our hands underneath
each other’s flesh. our arms in an embrace for eternity.
our eyes glossed over with tears.

i perform a surgical procedure on myself:
scalpels, scissors​, and two pairs of arms​
hanging a lifeless blue from their tendons.
i weep from the butchering. ​


the day after

the sun seemed to hang in the blue sky
with no intention of setting—
its certainty scorched
relentless against my skin.

and so i lay calmly beneath it,
so as to let it peel me clean and
evaporate the mist that remained
from that endless beautiful twilight.

and i will gather the salt on my face.
i will let it dry my tongue
of the words that poured
nourishingly and sweet.

and i will hold this body with my own hands.
i will heave it upwards
to let it face the horizon
with a smile well-rehearsed.


the dawn peers over the horizon,
beginning its burning of mist
in a glow tinted orange.

orange like the salt lamp upon
the bedpost, a candlelight vigil
drenched by deep blue sheets and
sea foam irises.

the lovers’ flesh fused overnight,
harboring dewy eyelids and fresh
pulses of the heart. a finger
traces across the gully of a chest.
inseparable as the sun kisses
the horizon’s other shoulder.

another love poem

moments of balmy summer, of
saltwater skin and sticky
eyelids, pooled in that soft
place between your ribs and
shoulder blade. my ear pressed
into you, your blood made the
sound of crashing waves and
a rhytmic thud of feet atop
wet sand.

your fingers dip into strands
of my hair as gravity
pulls to the sea floor.
your voice a fleeting sound
as a kite cut loose.