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?
