Sometimes my heart pushes my ribs.
Sometimes I want to skip clown school
and take your suggestion of "just driving-
north."
Sometimes I just want to go to Moonstone
Beach with you again and honor the
crab or sand-dollar or whatever it was
that Alyssa killed.
How I want to speak to the waves
Hear the puckering bubbling of all
the air sockets of shells blended
into the black rock.
I want to tell you about the V
shaped scar below my bottom lip and
the scars between my legs.
How fingers fumble through denim
mouths and fish blood.
How I reference skin and
helix curls.
How sometimes I just need to
write down my thoughts and
pretend it's poetry.
-slm
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