I walk beside the Marine Lake, treading from light to shade to light. The pool brims with high
tides and errant waves, salt, small fish and, today, moon jellies. Countless perform their
pulsing inward-outward dance that carries them until they meet a diffraction of drift wood;
seaweed; the Marine Lake wall. Their density, little more compact than the water they live in,
matches the weight of guilt blooming in my veins.
By the time I reach home, you’ve promised to be gone, swept away on the friction of your
confession, which ended the inertia of our fusion while I swallowed my own.
tides and errant waves, salt, small fish and, today, moon jellies. Countless perform their
pulsing inward-outward dance that carries them until they meet a diffraction of drift wood;
seaweed; the Marine Lake wall. Their density, little more compact than the water they live in,
matches the weight of guilt blooming in my veins.
By the time I reach home, you’ve promised to be gone, swept away on the friction of your
confession, which ended the inertia of our fusion while I swallowed my own.
‘Swept away on the friction of your confession’ … nice! Beautifully written.
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