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manifest press

whenever I might fall I’m afraid of falling

and when the impulse presents itself I take it

with the waves
washing your words
with the roar of the waves and your words emerging
in moments

how long would it take?
the urgency comes in
and I anticipate the next time you grab my hand

it drowns you out,
the waves

the gull flying with all he can muster
straight into the gale,
barely moving forward and careening
with its frequent shifts

translating with the help of the icy gusts
to a broken jolting language, but
your hand keeps moving and moving

barely moving forward


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