
Image: Created by Grok
This Salt Sea
Because my mother bore me, I navigate this salt sea
that pulsates under my skin, this blood sea the moon urges.
In the push and flow, I still my eyeballs
and listen to the ocean in my ears,
but I can never find the boundary they call skin.
I never know where I should end and you might begin:
I feel you are a wave and I am the sand.
Or you are a long strand of kelp and I am the forest.
Maybe you are a school of fish and I am the food they toss
from the glass-bottom boat.
Maybe I am a crab and you are a gull,
though I suspect you’re a shark—
but you’re probably just a slippery dolphin
whose language I wish I could learn.
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