Tag Archives: lifeboat

Lifeboat

You are my non-inflatable life vest,
whistle and saltwater-activated
emergency light strapped to my bare chest.
You are my signal flare, my only hope
if I’m ever lost in the blue nowhere.
You are my emergency exit, left
unlocked at all times but never to be
utilized for my daily entrances.
You are my smoke detector, inspected
every few months to make sure you’re not
dead, but left alone for fear of your noise.
You are my spare tire, my AAA card,
my life insurance plan, my second, and
sorry, but I hope I’ll never need you.

Blinds

Your white dress billows like a jellyfish
plume, tentacle limbs askew, buffeted
by the windy waves beneath the surface
of my gaze. If I stare you down too long
you’ll drown the both of us, disrupt the thin
tension of our infinite possible
futures: look back and I might go under;
ignore my eyes and I might dry out on
this lovely beach and die; gently rock your
lifeboat hips in my direction and I
might forgo all metaphors, lose myself
in the depths of a wet speculation,
imagine it all in reverse, your words
a faint seashell whisper in the morning.