Eva Jackson: 0032

Tide gone out

Something wants something you have, you
Want the surface of things.
Nothing is any good enough, you
Saw the edges off of things.
Then there was the peace of the bay and walking out like the mudflat birds
Thinking the dropoff severe, finding it actually just shades into deep and the part
Where it can accommodate a ship is far away from your hesitant feet.
And the sailors throw the frames of sim-cards, call-cards, among the gulls
Overboard, and call their loved ones, and you find them
Their plastic hearts removed, in the sludge.