The Unsalted Sea

The Aftermath of New York: Always Before the Storm

Drops of sweet salt fall to the pavement
where a tom cat licks them up like sugar
but not fast enough to stop a wave in the lakes
that I am forced to be afraid of.

I've read the posted signs
"10,000 shipwrecks"
and the gale warnings that make my screen glow in the early hours
as I prepare myself to wade in the vast, open waters
holding my breath
where the rip tides stir silently
threatening to drag me out.

I am not the Edmund Fitzgerald
your waves only lure me in deeper.

"Save me from myself; don't let me drown!"
I sing to the sea
like the radio sings to me
the sea that's not an ocean
the sea with no salt.

I laugh
but only at my mind sometimes
I am not afraid of myself
rather what lies beneath the waves
before I find a passing seagull
who tells me to look east
find the sun to feel the rays
that warm the water on the winter days.

The cat lays next to you on the blanket and licks your hand
your skin is the softest cream
you chuckle
but not enough to make you shut your blue eyes
that read "I love you so, forever and more"
and I believe them
oh, I believe them
and the sweet sea blue.

I dive headfirst into the waves
with gills.

– 8/5/17