Tsunami no. 2

Christina Strigas

You hold on tight to me
Through the branches
Sheds, garbage cans,
Flying rakes,
broken flower pots,
Wet shoes, socks,
Pants, hair
Are you still with me?

Your hands have crazy glue

image

Locked into mine
Bonded by the touch of water
Upon our soaked skin
Your eyes are dark
Desirious, hungry for dry land
Don’t you want me baby?

I want the warm sun to fill our souls
With heat.
Answer my questions, dammit.

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