a place of depth

Maybe this is more honest
than the last ocean,
all salt and song,
dedicated to the current
of everything that’s wrong,
pulling darkness
out of marrow
until something breaks,
a snap, mouth
mistaking sorrow for air,
leaving every shore
again and again,
gasping
beneath the sure weight
of an endless want.

Break a dish,
cross a street,
kiss—there are always
consequences,
overripe and sweet,
laughter that spins
like an earthquake,
but you don’t realize
what’s collapsing
until it’s too late.

Throw a name at the sky
and see if it takes flight,
more bird than bone,
the way the wind unhinges
itself, reveling in its own freedom,
the simple way
it finds and loses
its footing, never settling,
always on the rise.

All hearts
are a place of depth,
a darkness
in which we willingly
drown. Ask what’s more
important:
air or love?
The ocean
knows all your secrets,
and even on its worst day,
will sing them
word by word
back to you.