There’s no water here
In the drought
City of Quartz
Just your electric
Words and my inner
Salt. Waiting to leak
At the slightest provocation
Maybe someday we’ll stand
At the shore

my little Cytherea
With your dove eyes
And myrtle hair

The men riding foam stallions back to us

The children gathering
Star fish architecture tiny sea glass windows

Me trying
To be reborn

– FLB.

***

An ivory wave drizzles
against the sand.
Leaves its tracks,
rivulets.
Then disappears
like smoke and dust.

He carries the sea on his back.
The tide trails beside
broken bones,
tar,
perfect spirals of peach seashells.

The sky is ink.
A smudge.
Sensitive to the touch
like a bruised exhale.
It is just enough.
The sky.
To make everything else fade.

– LB