seascape
the trick is to cast the widest of nets.
to drag the salt of the tides over fresh
wounds, let it soften them into sea-glass.
the body writes new habits and lives in–
between, carrying the fire of melo
melo pearls in its oyster belly.
it fights the urge to snap shut when the wash
of sunk cost fallacies assails the shore.
you can’t desire what you don’t contain:
birthstones. sea air. grains of sand. and every
white whale i’ve fish-hooked into a sonnet.
time is only precious when it’s bottled -
cast into intolerant breakers in
the hope it may just find its way ashore.
17.04.2024
