When you go I become
the sea gull begging salt from
from briny air.
My veins are a winding tunnel
of purple sea.
I channel you in the night owl’s
perpetual call that awakens my
subconscious to virtual desire.
At dawn your shirt hangs from a
bed post in buttery sunlight
and I’ve become so small I could slip
inside the lining of your chest
sheltered by the warmth of your
skin where Ilong to be.
Art by Anuraag