The Wreckage

There are secrets hidden between the lines of these pages

which crease like the sheets on your bed when

you turn and overturn them with a

misplaced foot or an erring hand in search of

bits and pieces of mahogany scattered across your seabed after

tumultuous waves rocked the ship back and forth

back and forth across the seascape where I learned to

let go and swim good and

break to the surface gasping for

your breath infused with the aroma of imported coffee and

the lingering aftertaste of sea-weed on your taste buds between

the hidden corners of your cheeks within

the hidden corners of your mouth,

I delved deep, swam good, delved deep,

swam up and down, up and down,

until the tumultuous waves swelled up and tossed

my body back and forth, back and forth,

slamming it against solid rocks into

bits and pieces of mahogany scattered across your seabed.