The quiet of the seabed

The quiet of the seabed

Listening to the sea
in your skin

my body rocks upon it
a rowboat

my deck glitters with crumbled glass
spilled from your eyes

you never smash me
snap me like bones

during storms you lift me to the sky
I almost touch it

your distant smile
the slow pulse of a lighthouse

each brush stroke of moonlight
reveals the seas crumpled fabric

and it makes me think
of the stillness of the seabed

where my tiny shipwreck
will one day be

resting in your silt
where slow as tides

slow as the opening of flowers
sunlight falls as flakes of ash

large as leaves

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