an odyssey just here… (draft)
He is at sea.
she is by land.
the irony of her tidepool
feeding on savanna, drawing down seeds
as his horizons grow dark
with stars cast on slack tide
oceans flat and full of mirages
at sea, or at sky?
sand collects at the edges
(his dry kisses)
where young red crabs crawl out
searching under the wide moon
for an easy current
the square-rig of deep ocean
planes, sails slack
and hanging down
waiting to breathe…
(salt on the tongue and in the eyes)
she closes her eyes
reaches out
like a whale she throws her life
against the current
neither the first woman to wait on a man,
nor will she be the last.
cut your tongue and open your eyes,
you are not the first to journey,
albatross slung under your chin,
and longed-for high grasses hallucinated
at your shoulders (her hands, her scent).
swim or hike, traveler,
back to your own blood-bearing chest
(she does not let slip a single drop).