we’ll meet there past the storm,
in evening tone with your eyes all washed ashore.
like the first to see shiny things in crystal skin,
just learning how to swim,
to their new homes,
holding ropes the color of the sky,
less dependent on the light.
and take that breath to their lungs,
like it’s the only one,
keep them clasped and closed and lined.
perched atop the crest’s white break,
surging through the shallows.
searching in the coastline’s haze,
for something solid through your breath.
sweeping in the siren’s song,
laid so gently in my ear.
life on the inside of your arms,
has left me feeling real.
feeling real.
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