Sunday, September 7, 2014

Fished out

You tell me you do not fit
between the bubble
and the tide
that your skin stiffens under the algae,
I rub you in coral
but the sea never washes into you
You are too solid for water
and I, like you despise the scales
the shiny blades I earned without contact with air
breathing is difficult when you inhale
processed oxygen, true we've both despised the sea
all that comes from it, the broken glasses rounded to a new shape
the shark's tooth, my sunburn and the salt into
our mouths water-washing our words
we leave what we do not understand,
and now, sitting near the fireplace bathing in October's thrill
and the biting chill you tell me again
how you do not fit between the foam and the sand grain
and I nod, I'll never let you know
how the sea creeps on you,
I'll keep my thoughts to myself
A fish out of water
is dead, anyway

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