The stuff that comes out a bird's mouth.
you hang in the sky
a morning full moon
pale transparent stranger
alone in winter white expanse
i’ve known you forever
as long as i’ve known
the moon
i don’t know you at all
don’t recognize
these changing faces
that wax and wane
while you pull at my tides
i beg for cloud cover
and remember how you cut me
and how i had to cauterize
my own wounds
so i wouldn’t bleed out
the ocean lives
in an empty
soup can
in the field
behind my house
i once found
a conch shell
bleached white
in that field
the ocean lived
there, too
the ocean lives
in my heart
salty tributaries
find their ways
to fingers, ears
the ducts of my eyes
you are too small
to be a moon
yet your song
pulls on the ocean
shaping it
before it flattens out
once more
——
It’s National Poetry Writing Month!
Day 29
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