You and I
earth and sky, song and wine, ink and skin
not a shadow between us, the virgin sand
jealous, trapped between our toes, my heart bigger,
bigger than the sea.
Yours, a planet beyond the frost line
where no one has lived.
Did I hear the waves
when I pressed my ears to the bottle by your bed
or whispers and amorous murmurs
of others, once mirrored in your eyes?
As you leave me to hurt, I think-
If I shatter the bottle, will every shard reflect
my misgivings or like
the circus mirrors show
the distorted avatars in which
I now see myself?
Bottle breaks, mirrors melt
a pool of quicksilver, I drown
in a toxic alchemy.
But the heart kicks, like it had been
taught to swim, desperate
for one breath…one breath.
An ashen body moves up
rising like it had loved.
A Phoenix lies on the beach, resting
then walks to the water, scrubs her heart
with the salt of the sea.