Literature
flotsam
we crash seafoam
when my bones are driftwood,
breaking.
i dive for pearls in your hair,
lose my breath and realize that
i don't need it;
your sighs suffice to fill my canvas lungs.
our bodies carve castles in the sand.
("you've practiced," you whisper.
"tongues in tidepools have taught you to love.")
the moon swells the waves.
your kneecaps remind me of
dolphin noses,
your fingertips are hermit crabs
that scuttle on my skin.
(we howl like seaside wolves, and then)
when morning comes i can't help but see the way you
sprawl like yawning waves in the early morning tide.
you are a shipwreck.
between sailor's-knotted sheets