high tide

i suppose they will say

it was always about me anyway

when i would try to write about you

but they did not feel what the ocean does each time

it touches sand

or how a woman must when they get their first period

in a crowded grocery store

or a bird under a tire once it realizes

there are easier ways to fly

or as i did

trying to type back a life

with still rage and a stuck page

after watching you go to the place

that rivers flow to

the place that dogs fight for

the place that cats already know but forget

where the ocean is receding

though there is no moon

and the women are barren

though there is no life

and the birds have snuck onto the

ends of my fingers

singing

watching time sink into the shadow

that light doesn’t cut through

and waiting for food

only to find me

not yet finished

though they know the

worms

will always arise

with the waters above