Pounding
We surge.
The foam on the crest of the wave
the spittle issued
from between clenched teeth.
What is it that drives the sea,
relentless?
An old man once told me it was about
love.
A lady once told me it was about
possesion.
And a child, a child once told me it was about
giving.
A gentle kiss on the forehead,
harsh words in the bedroom,
a child in the doctor’s arms.
Tell me, was it love that gave you
fear that drove you
to accept.
A kiss on the forehead,
harsh words in the bedroom,
does he know the tears?
Foam that rides the crest of the waves-
crashing upon the cliffs.
Life grows within your belly,
kicking, flailing;
you rise to the top,
spittle between your clenched teeth.
An old man said it was love
as he closed the coffin.
A lady told me it was possesion
as she undid the buckle.
A child told me it was giving
as he held my hand.
Pounding, pounding - pulsing.
What is it that drives the sea?
Was it love that gave you
fear that made you
give it all away.