we are rooted in the sea, veins and arteries stretching
across the earth, twining tangled to the world’s salt-soaked center
and i’ve seen: we can’t stop running to the shore,
stopping short with hands pressed to our hearts,
the sand holding firm and sharp and clean against our skin.
it feels like the end of the world.
it feels like the beginning of everything.
there’s a hole in my throat that only fills up when i’m
watching the waves dance with the sun, dreaming about
twirling around in the endless cool, the endless softness
until i’m bitter with the taste of it, brackish and sticking
in the back of my mouth. the water changes color:
opaque teal as i’m falling dizzy to it, faded out over the side of the bridge
(i always think what would happen if it cracked and we fell),
cyan in old pictures moldering along my walls.
it’s like this for a moment. it’s like this forever.
it’s only like this in my head.
(pour enough oil on the ocean, and it will light right up
when the rest of you flick out your cigarettes.)
— oceans above, for earth day//ast.