Alexis Evans
Drowning
The sea washes my landscape
of sudden stones and precise rocks,
changing the texture under my feet.
In green dreams the ninth wave
crashes over me, salty and secret,
his ribs the ripples of the breakers.
In underwater distortion I build
with seaweed and driftwood
the architecture of his body,
the ridge of his spine, his sluiced skin,
the crook of his elbow when asleep,
the bones above his eyes.
I drown in the hollow of his throat
and slip through slatted fingers
into the flood.
Page(s) 15
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