"the tide"

"the tide"
shakily by jake kilroy.

fresh air hiding out in my dirty cave lungs,
pushing back and forth against the land,
like wave after wave of watery graves,
smashing and swirling and eroding away
at the very little left of the pristine island
that was once a gorgeous beacon of hope.

treasure chests pile up, all empty, all wasted,
though they were only ever filled with maps anyway.

on our way home forever,
we each slept with one heart open,
which we later filled with sand
to keep track of the months lost.

it was forgivable how forgettable it all was;
the lashings, the beatings, the cruel laughs,
that rattled with the sea and washed ashore,
but i was a furious ocean looking to pull all ships
down to the bottom cavern below the lowest silt,
and march through this great world with eyes
that glowed as flawless as fire to conquer civilization,
even if it was only one king and an army of decoys.

my tongue was a sea serpent,
hell-born and hell-bent,
swimming through my soul
waiting to find the last sailor
bold enough to dare an evening swim.

and the moon would set, finally,
upon a blue ocean with a current
as quiet and dangerous
as a whisper.