November PAD 13

This poem is part of a longer sequence, so it is untitled.



We were never of one body.
You said wind. I said water.
And whatever connected us has all but disappeared.

I was the reedy weeds clinging to the bottom edge of everything.
I was the red algae rotting on the shore in the summer heat.
I was the stinging salty air, the air around your tongue.

Out of your tongue you carved a boat.
Out of the boat you sailed to freedom.
I was the slopping waves pushing you beyond the sightline.

No man is an island, but I was.
I was all of this and more.