What the Water Gives MeWe spend our first nine months inWhat the Water Gives Me by ~Akichan15
small sacks of transparent, rosy
membranes and indigo-blue veins.
Floating in the fluid darkness,
we breath in time to the beat
of waves rising and breaking
rushing in and out of unseen chambers
of the heart. Existence is a pulsing communion
with God in the ebb and flow of silence
before we wash ashore on the dry banks
of the canal and learn to scream.
My nephew was born small and wrinkled
into latex gloves, with fluid in his lungs.
Brushing my pinky against his petal-fragile
skin, I think of the tides and
the people who return to them with
stones in their pockets, surrendering
to the crashi
No Two PeopleThe night is strange and I roll in dirt on the lawnNo Two People by ~Akichan15
over to your side.
I blink and
you are gone.
In that breadth of darkness I remembered a story,
I'd read online about a whale who has been calling
through the velveteen freezing dark for years
with no reply .
I woke up the next morning for a sporadic jog
and it was fall.
I wondered why
it is true
no two people feel the same way at the same time.
The DownswingMy body is wildly slack.The Downswing by ~Akichan15
My boots leave behind grooves
against the smooth and sable sky.
With every pump of my thighs
my kidneys and lungs float for a weightless moment,
shaken up together into something like a klidney,
and nothing comes close;
Not scaling jagged sea rocks in Maine
Not his nails grazing the dip of my neck
Not ice cream, kissing, alcohol, or
your sea green eyes leaving imprints
The JardinMy breath hitches at stalks of rustling leaves andThe Jardin by ~Akichan15
the manicured trees bursting green against the sky
a too-small bench,
the solid, dark-eyed nannies and their strollers,
willowy women with low, curling chignons,
business men with careful mouths, long, frecking strides.
My laughter was sporadic and jolting while I crumbled,
under the slightest of touches, there,
between my shoulder blades,
where another hand