by Tiffany Saunders
There’s peril in the sea
But young men still lose their ears to the sultry roar of it.
They lose their footing for the thrill of it
And the cliffs rumble deep at their plight.
My eyes catch on limbs breaching the rough water
Grasping at hope that’s long been dead.
The Sea, she loves to see you dying
Begging for someone to take you
From Her home so the bitter brine won’t lap at your bloody gashes.
I bear witness to the most perfect union
Great gray waves washing themselves of impurity
A final cry for me,
And then
My back faces the calm.
