Feature photo by Isabella Chon
If I should ever see your face again,
Let me recall your hanging toes
With mine, the shoddy flip-flops I bought for you
Dangling over the quayside.
Above the sea
We listened intently, pretending to know of
The workings of these waves, each taking secret glances
At the other to figure out what the ancients saw
In the whispered nothings of the ocean’s beatings.
But between the constant folding of water,
I understood only you.
You with your empty cupping hands
Reaching out, blindstruck for anything, for me, for air,
Your murmurs falling out like baby words,
Today’s been a wonderful day
We’ll see each other again tomorrow, won’t we?
I tell you vacantly, let’s come back to the sea
And plunge where our waves converge, to
Let our words slip back into the drowning mass
Of mistranslated black masts.
Oh, today is a ruse to rue the days of tomorrow.
A lyre in my hand and the World
strumming under my feet,
Do I dare turn back for you?
You profess to a mastery of deeper waters
Yet see no secrets in the seas between us.