The Sound of Drowning

Pale cobalt and cracking until the skin of your lips met your jaw
unable to reach an agreement, 
your mouth clambered for hours in the cold
a language spoken by the wind when the sun has left the day

wishing you’d never caught her eye from the ferry deck
the railings a cotton bed
and you’ve always preferred the floor
breathing softer and hoping to be ignored by the lighthouses that lie
far         away        as      some other
maybe Spain

The distance of the isles                to you, the ribs on your coast
and you ask not for the first time why your ribs can’t be posts that spine a torrent
the back that breaks a boat
and the wind         
leans         in           close

No, it says,
its a marker for a shallow shoreline
swim past the ribs and grab a rock
see I hope
you kept your shoes because they’ll shred your feet sooner than the tide will sell them short
and the navy of the water
won’t love that pretty mouth when its lost that bluish color so I suggest you make a fire
and start praying to a warmer god.



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