Tagged: water’s edge

drowning doesn’t look

drowning doesn’t look
the way one suspects it looks
every time, it takes

something as hard and soft as
water to appear uplifted


by day’s end, we are

by the water’s edge,

by the water’s edge,
holding it in is still more
noble than letting
it out. you show
me this by way of
example, the centuries
of men and women –
fathers and mothers,
daughters and sons
friends and lovers –
who by day held
their struggles
humming within
the palms of their
hands and by night
plunged them into
waters as deep as their
breaths, coming up
for air, whispering
only into the gaps
between the stories
that were meant
to be told, passed on

we are an hour’s

we are an hour’s
ride away from the ocean.
there’s a gathering-

up-of-skirt feeling as i
write this, ready to take the plunge

nearly three decades

nearly three decades
later, we are still finding
hidden things within

your depths, stirring the surface
for clues in each fleeting fold

by the water’s edge,

let us work on being