ocean song

 

I can’t sleep

when oceans scream

through these remnants

of salt and sand

I can’t swallow

when mountains sit heavy

on my stomach,

mock my dying voice

 

I can’t move, not in this

turquoise wasteland

I breathe galaxies,

mists of liquid possibility pierce

my atrophied veins;

how they twirl and evolve,

spin like

marbles, echo over this

cornflower vapor

 

entombed in stone as

fingerless stars,

we stir oceans in vertigo,

twist cold time

into constellations

it erodes our coastlines,

litters our silver nightmares

with carbon and pearl

 

we wash up here as

sad artifacts,

morsels by the seaside

hollow, cracked shells our

discarded homes, the

bones of lonely albatross

 

in these dark waters

I have glimpsed

the tempest through your eyes

don’t you ever tell me

to look away

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© 2019 Tanya Rakh and Ndotono Waweru

Tanya Rakh is a poet and author residing in Madison, Wisconsin. Her verse has appeared in journals including Danse Macabre, Yes, Poetry, and Bywords. Ndotono Waweru is a poet and author based in Boston, Massachusetts. His poetry is frequently featured in the journal Spillwords and is published in anthologies including In the Crosshairs and A Promise of Doves. Both have poetry guest featured in the new collection Used Wings by Tissy Taylor. Together they explore and chart Alien words by the residual glow of dreams and blinding antigravity. They are currently working on their first book of duets.