hard sweet hard

i went out for you today

I went out for you today, to the beach. not the beach where I held the wet stranger in the silence before the helicopter. no, not that one. I went to the one where I practiced cartwheels in the sand, one after another, as the dog barked and someone collected heart-shaped rocks.

I walk eyes shut today and listen.

I am listening for you today.

booming waves, low and wild, paired with crisp crunch of footfall.
the ocean rips, spray rises, foam erupting
fizzing as it races up the tideline.
in the shallows: clap, slap, slop.
ascending, descending, disappearing.

today another dog runs across my track,
skidding eight paces in the sand.
I go back and measure later.

I count curious pinholes in patterns still remaining,
more visible after the sun sinks, when shadows set.

I try to make a perfect impression.

the day you were listening for me:

it is not my time, I said to you
just the thought of it calmed me
as I watched the car spiral into the air
graceful yet struggling, like a fish fighting on the line

today is not my day I said to you,
as twisted metal slid in front of me
and I drove through it, heart pounding.

it was a brutal 90 degrees up there at the cemetery that afternoon
sweat beading down my spine as I ordered the two headstones
and walked the grid alone. Halloween. how goth, I joked later.

you were there, almost a stranger
but not quite

-

Labels: birth, connecting, death, locus of control, mail, memory, ocean, proximity, reclaiming, sea, spontaneous, translation

posted by anne @ 4:19 AM