75 Grams

A hunger
a hurt
a tide pool world full
yet shallow
lost in spent foam of hindcast
waves a crushed
shell
hardened ghosts of a
bubble’s iridescent shine only
this time
the grey horizon line blurred
between ocean and sky
adrift or flight
no sextet or stars to guide
surrender to the lunar tug
of tide taste of salt and
the conviction that there’s nothing
inside miles wide but inches deep
that leaves me drowning
as I die of thirst

rain listen for it an forever first      last year has left shriveled pomegranates
north of the eyes south of the mouth longing     what silent little faces these red skulls
again I start with hunger end with thirst    past and present hang about ornaments
worth of self as defined by belonging       that appeal to morbid sentimental
each time it rains it rains for the first time    mornings gone white rain fog a fever
even if floods ensue and deserts drown        has me in its grip on medication
breach of one landscape only tells me I’m         ignoring the damage to my liver
heaven closer or away from alone         was there ever any more indication
listen there is a hush and then a roar        of my mental state I really can’t tell
an all at once everywhere only        it rained last night and today I feel gray
christened by god and performed by nature     off centre in the air there is a smell
can occur in the mind of the lonely lit with dead things and wet ground puddles stray
prayers are the food and the flesh of hope         fallen tinsel reflecting firmaments
there’s hunger then a thirst that will not stop     pollen of a yesterday’s cold cement

© 2012 Elisa Grajeda-Urmston and John Perham