Friday, January 26, 2018

Amber Corrine: 4/4

I think in another life,
I passed on through water.
Because the sea has cried out to me
since I was old enough to listen.

My mother was frightened
the first time I pressed my lips
to Lake Michigan.
I was surprised when I didn’t taste
salt in her kiss.

When I introduced myself to the sea,
She stole breath from my lungs.
Jellyfish stings like butterfly kisses
Hello hello--
You’ve finally made it.
Hello.

I used to leap into waves
with my father.
The only time he crashed
into something
other than porcelain.
Laugh ringing out,
instead of rage.
Smile disappearing
under sea-spray,
One hand an anchor on my elbow
the only time he didn't let go.

I wake with seabrine on my tongue.
Taste her salt in the water
that spills from my eyes.
Feel her ebb and flow
beneath my skin
as I try to catch my breath.

She calls me,
begging me to come home.
Ankles in frozen shallows,
I reach for her.
Maybe in this life,
she will let me walk away.

1 comment:

Thanks for playing along at home!

1 month down and some new poems in your pocket. Here's to lookin' forward to the rest of 2018, folks.