Tiny tricks of vintage blues I tear the streetlamp from the roots and gesture upwards, past my brow to skies unlit by fire towers. Trigger tails of unmatched hue I sit in silence open mouthed as mesmerized by ticking time as tree leaf branches’ ending chime.
Brazen chipped callous lines side of left toe, stretches, white, as I stretch wide— toe pockets marked with shadows echo tide pools and wave drops pitter sand from the mat of the car. Chalk elbows graze along the grey window sill, dragging slip lines of dust mites bits of me I haven’t missed.
As I nap in the currents of undiluted ocean with its vibrant sea salt cleansing my salty soul, I notice: I am taller here. Cast long, with the shadows uninterrupted by anything– my shadow is graceful and still and I wonder: what might she be thinking?
When my body wakes me. It’s still dark. I open the window above my bed. The whispering dawn snuggles down. Down into my hair. Down into the space between me and my sleeping bag. Which I sleep in despite the closet full of sheets. The whispering dawn lifts me out. Out into my running shorts. Into my cheetah print bandana. Into my bright blue … Read More Composting
in a black rubber suit zipped to mid-chest, the two sides flapping in the sea gusts, flapping to the beat of the lurching dinghy and up and up and down down to the choppy Arabian waters, his bare foot braced on the lip of the bow foot tendons flexing, whooping unbridled as the sea spray leaps to his curls— pauses his laughter for … Read More The French Diver