124 Readings | 2 Ratings

Come Again

Remembering is fundamentally recursive:
Each body of water a womb, each body 
of water a body; each body loved a watery font 
of want. I knew a man who knew a man 
who loved me, he was a teary type, one who would tear
at his own eyes when frightened. I had a torn shortage, 
one that was shorn from the shore of a stormy sea — 
This need was as salty as the man who was known by the man
who bottled his sockets against the rain. The man known
by the can-eyed crier was what we could call a lover, 
this is to say he had loved while my tides turned.
This is to say he raked the fields of salt
that would have been my sea had I the gift
to covet certainty.
Posted 07/02/17
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