Maritime

Did you ever feel this. Astonished

by the blood drawn from

your arms when you took a step forward

and the air scraped you.

Maybe you think peace. Think it

as a floral carpet, a persistent scent

that is supposed to be

a memory you treasure. Only

it was put there by someone else.

When the sun hits

it feels like something.

Someone cooks soup.

You love a person you envy.

And the emotions wash

into a teacup

and you drink them

and your teeth are storm-stained.

If there were a wave,

blue-black, flooding lives out,

spinning each person

and the next

and their needs

together as if they were fabrics

in a laundry machine,

could I ever trust it? If I touch

and you forget

you have borders against nature.

We’re floating somewhere

in a primordial pool.

And I’ve got you, and I’ve got you.