Prisoner of Words (8/11)

1982

Something poetic, he said. Something that shows my love for her, he said. 

Vast waves

I think of you and I

Rocking back and forth

Like the waves in the ocean

Glistening foam

Caresses every mark in the sand

Bulbous seashells 

What do these shells bring me?

Though small and dainty

Allure larger waves

And the seaweed Though tenacious

Tickles the moving sea 

All I did was write a poem. She didn’t like it. And so here I was, aligned with mail clerks and religious chaplains. Confessing to a crime of kindness.