We held eachother's ghosts,
a fist of sorts. Your blue claws
tight around my quickest vein-
a dagger in my dark belly.
And the drum's chord beat
the rock in mirrored waves;
washed night from limb
like fine mist from the hills.
When you leave the bed
I understand the sea-
the quiet, deep organs
of its body,
the constant pulse
of its grief against the shore,
the way it shines exquisite
in the sudden brightness
of our morning.
