A Kinder Sea, after a line by Emily Dickinson*

By CL Bledsoe

I wish you had a kinder sea to drown
in. It would help with your anxiety.
The waves tie your shoes together
in case you ever smell the shore.
It presses your pants and shirt so
the other fish will think you’re putting
on airs. No soil to sate your thirst.
Nothing but jellyfish as far as the eye
can ignore. They whisper codes to
combination locks you haven’t had
since high school. Salt on the rim
of your world’s glass. It smells
like a home you’ve never seen. But
the ocean won’t save you. It doesn’t
know how to be alone with itself
long enough to let you climb out
and find a portapotty or a cheeseburger.
The constant chattering of dolphins.
The post-punk songs of lonely whales.
You can never go home again, but that’s
probably for the best considering how
much money you owe them.

*From my book Grief Bacon

Stuff My Stupid Heart Likes by CL Bledsoe (co-author of https://medium.com/@howtoeven and The Wild Word: https://medium.com/search?q=not%20another%20tv%20dad)

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