Poem: Untitled

You’re the shallow innerness of all things me:
the portcullis of the sand castle I built
with the dreams of fishes—
You’re the verdant coral—the blueprint of Atlantis—
the sea weed and the waste,
the murk of algae and water lilies,
You’re paradise muddled by the plankton of tantrums,
silly fights and trance-like make-ups,
You’re Narcissus without a reflection,
Echo without a voice—
Your eye-lashes bash and rule over me like a trident,
and those nylon stockings are the nets am spooled by—
I can’t separate your voice from such chorus of desire—
Especially now, the scale is imbalanced;
You’ve immersed yourself in the water,
and become brine,
each palm-full I gather, is a palm-full of you
I’ll never truly own—
For, in the same way no one truly owns the seas,
no one truly owns your tears.


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