The First of June

a poem I wrote yesterday while I was sitting on a rock at the waterline

The voice over your earbuds said

this would be the year

and now

the earth is buckling, and the tides

reach all the way to the treeline, then

lower than low again.

I know I shouldn’t be afraid.

He said, What’s the matter with you?

I said, This is the point.

The point is not to do it

to not do it

this is what words are for.

A heart emoji on my screen

When the tide is down

you can see the ancient stone

that has crawled up out of the fire

and blackened itself with salt and sun

to break open in the light.

This will be the year.

Will you still love me when I’m something else?

Will you love me like I love you?