Floodwaves
a fast current
rose up in my throat when i last spoke to you
in a jumbled mess, didnt know where it was going
or what i destroyed or if it matters what happens after a flood,
its just a building or a car or a parking lot under that water
landmarks change : a person, a keyboard, a meme,
a moment, a time, a song, a blender, a dream
... the earth is constant with its storms
(Gina, can you ..help me)
we shared a steady current of words
that rose and fell and surrounded me
daily with something that flowed
between calm shores, your words
pressed against me and caught my breath
but one day i couldnt see the edges any more
and i cant make sense of the
flood that swelled in my chest
poured through my arms and out my fingers
till it smashed us both
and washed our words away
and i regret
that this poem
is the only way
i can talk to you today.
