TAR

i blink sand out of my eyes/listen to the ancient tides sob.

she sits knees-to-chest/surging, lucid. touching her is a

rapture /i am not ready for.

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i fill mason jars with algae and soap/she throws the sea

glass back into the ocean/again, and again/until there is

nothing more to soften.

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i press my forehead into the tender/violet webs

on my palms/my veins, this casual netting, tossed

overboard wide and swinging.

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i try to find something to say/clamber, wingless and

dimming/and still, I don’t know/ why i never feel so

alone as/when i am loved/loudly