I wouldn’t mind sand and salt
in my hair, which I imagine long and unkempt
loose about my shoulders, sticking
bare skin cool in pools of gathering water about my limbs
the sunlight gleams on my ocean, always setting, always rising
your voice elevates in pitch and I turn
the foamy white waves turning with me,
hair billowing, suspended in watery space,
the anger I was trying to let go of
returns in full force. I don’t want to hate,
so I will focus it, damn this table between us.
and the switch clicks off again, I am
somewhere drowning and you are still talking rivers of words at me