i told this stranger that i craved the sea,
my wish to sleep beneath the midnight waves
and feel the tug and pull of mother's tide,
her lustful dance, her back against the moon,
his passion rippling her gathered skirts.

this stranger soon became the man i loved,
who rocked me back and forth before we slept.
his hair smelled like the early summer air,
i smelled it in the sweat he left behind.

i told my lover that i craved the sea.
he told me he would bring me jars of sand,
seashells poking through the grated earth.
he failed to see the larger wish i held—
the wish to be a daughter of the swell,
eternalized with seaweed-braided hair,
no breath needed deep beneath the sky.

i told him once again my wish for life,
my childish fantasy never outgrown.
he took me by the hand and whispered sweet,
"i have the answer to your pleading wish."
he wrapped my eyes with fabric smelling worn
and led me to our wooden bedroom door.
my fingers pushed the panels, shaking hard,
my mind a mess with possibility.

i told my lover that i craved the sea.
he bought me a queen-size filled with water.


iambic penameter can blow me.
piece written for advanced workshop.
tear it apart, please.