Out Of The Blue

The ocean lies on my bed
 breathing in conch-whispers

I float up to give it space. 
It is dry and feverish tonight

and curls around my ankles tugging me down

Its amoebic tips reach my lips, caressing them
-rudely, carelessly
its eyes somewhere else
The inattentiveness insulting my softness



An yacht floats out from the depths

People dance to music on the deck

Their laughter floats into the deeps
turning into another language of imagined gods

These people left a world I knew

but they still laugh

Death is much maligned after all



A mast straightens
A flag pours out from a toothpaste tube

in stripes of red and white
and I stand to attention 
listening to an anthem
that plays
 till a clock stops and drags it backwards
and I try to read that script too out of habit

We bleed together
music and mouth



in the aftermath of reversal
We are the dreams of the ocean

We wait for its sonorous waves to take us home

to turn us into seashells

each housing a crawling memory