k tiao
sublimation into tacit understanding
neowise umeboshi shibori
phantom google chrome tabs
migrated from july clouds past
frog brioche for sister season
orange tiramisu for new girl at your place
spondylitis for split flexed broken trust
muscle curled between a hot rock and a
soft place, lodged between vertebrae
and gray matter, mistranslations that
bubble in sulfurous water and loosen
with time. loss as fixed constant,
love as leverage from the universe,
aishiteru too early to call me back
mostly naked at the club in six-inch
boots, mostly sober and home before
the clock strikes five when the metro opens
mouth teeming with morning people
you’re asleep in a king-size bed on
the ninth floor, king of your universe
w a yeast infection unmoored at sea
the shore
hugo says the sand only appears on the summer beach.
in the winter, the shore is all rocks, but as the people come out, so too the sand.
the sun has slipped behind clouds, but i leave hugo on the log, & slink into the sea.
my dysphoria feels like swimming in the ocean.
when i float with the current, the waves take me to shore w gentleness.
when i perform its waves and curves, we are fluid and one
but when i walk against, i struggle: the ocean is vast and sublime, & me,
i am just a tiny thing w legs trying to run along.
my body in sea might just dissolve, as foam. the waves are gentle
until one leaps above my hair & salts my eyes
i remember how dangerous and out of my control it all is
could this body learn to ride the surf? exhale into current?
the ocean ejects me. i leave behind this futile metaphor
thighs sticky and sanded, i retreat to the driftwood perch alone.
the mountain line jags and tears behind the curl of the forest,
water crawls under the rocks that shrink as they lead away from the trees.
a dog without hind legs trails the slow stream washing seaward. as the sun sets
the horizon line disappears, the sea a blur of gray.
frenzied bats flit and broil in the darkening air, feasting on crepuscular bugs.
smoky driftwood fires sprout along the curve of night
i watch the last three beach girls pose by the monochrome shore
as moths & mosquitoes crowd my skin,
the salted peel of this body, occasionally mine.