Murmur, smirk, 

bite (nibble) taste press 

breathe exhale (shudder) hold.

I’m free – quick

grab my ankle before I float

away! But don’t look too close. 

I don’t cling to bedsheets as though

being removed from their ocean 

would leave me gasping.

Is it only me 

who lost love

for the cold taste of deep sleep?

(Whisper) Have you ever noticed the 

scabs on your ankle where 

anchors weighed

you down?

Instead, I wake and wait

for the sun 

(Wish) who may bring me a breathe of you to drink as the dawn

who drags himself 

heavy, languid, over the horizon.

(Gaze) I’ll tell you a secret I don’t want him to hear:

I picked my scabs doggedly.

The scars remind me that

I breathe air, not water.

I’m free.

Rise.