Francine Conley
My boat lost in a place like surrender.
The sky is a curtain opening itself to glow-in-the-dark
celestial patterns.
It’s a map memorized as four points
with water all around.
I cannot hear my voice in the waves.
The world breaks up from so much weight
and miscomprehension.
How do you say heavy in English?
I am walking as if waiting
to fall.
Do I mean drown.
Underneath the water my hair rises like snakes
and I start to tell a story
that vibrates across distances.
Where to start?
Dear—
Our oar leans in the boat
like a promise.
There is a swarming in my mouth.
My ears are shaking because you told them
everything.