You cannot shake me.
I’ve been tailing you since the storm surge,
ailing of the lack of you.
These ribs that jut out and point,
a magnetic anomaly for my lips.
Thoughts disappearing amongst sunk ships
Your body as an ocean traversed by my palm,
Three vertebrate passed in sequence by fingertips.
I want an X-ray of your spine
to plot the trajectories of my voyages,
to better understand the constellations,
seen from hidden Archipelagoes.
Slip from island to island
across this pale silent Irish sea
Cozied at freckle-hipped base camps.
Drawn magnetic north, to make way inland,
To the head water, these still damp curls
Navy rings around the very edge of the world,
snagging onto belt loops and snatching up halyards
any storm to weather.
Where fear has been your ocean,
I will be the raft. Thin sticks
latched with corded backs.
Make me your albatross if you must,
but I’ll gladly go down with this ship.