Regret

I stood in the tide of
the North Sea
and I should have dived in.
I should have stripped
off my clothes
like an overgrown baby
and screamed and
squawked into the surf

I should have shrugged
off my care for my
friend’s husband. I’m
sure he would have
politely turned around
if I’d asked.
then I’d have had to
contend with the flotsam

on the beach, but that
wouldn’t have mattered,
half shells, stones, sponges
even the cuts on my
feet would have been
worth it if I’d boldly
yawped into the bubbling
spume, a signal

to the universe that I knew,
I saw what was coming
next (which is a lie)
but in that moment,
to prove to myself I was
animate, to confirm I
could do anything, to
beat my chest at the

edge of the world,
to be alive,
especially if I had
known everything that
would begin– days
later– the layers of dreams
I’d have to divest,
the altar I’d have to burn

in sacrilege, the pain that
would engulf me, the end
This is important because
now I know that my
jaunt into the North Sea
would look pale,
naked, unfeathered in
comparison to reality

and it really wouldn’t
have changed anything.
the tide would have
rolled, salt-gray, rhythmic,
unforgiving, over me
as the lanterns burned
brightly in the beach house
but it’s one thing I may
always regret

Ghost

You never think
That someone will pass through you
Like the ghost of who they once were
Like the spirit of a person you once knew

You never think
That it could hurt so badly to unravel
Like every color of who they were was in you
Like each thread that stitched you all together was undone

You never knew
What death while someone is alive feels like
What saying goodbye without saying anything means
What one body of pain can experience

Until you knew

Comfort

sink into the folds
of an oversized chaise
tuck your body between
the seat cushion
and english arm
rest your head on the
soft folds of the chenille
bolster, squish and
knead yourself into
the billows of down fill
rest all of yourself in
there to see if you’ll
be safe from the storm

Celebrate

listen, don’t you forget
that even days of sorrow
can be days of celebration
that’s the paradox
we were born for this

Spoon

if you bring your thighs
right under the nook
of my knees
and the bulk of your
body right into the
curve of my hips
and your chest flush
with my back and
wrap yourself around
me all night, I
may remember what
love, and safety, and
sighing in peace
really feels like
I’ll be home again
quiet, delicious, hazy jazz
you’ll quell my longing

Relentless

sometimes this existence can
feel so heavy
so weighted and wearisome
so relentless