Blue

This contract with sadness is written
just under the surface of my hide—
blue veins
darting in and out
of white flesh—
heart pounding
on and off
with bursts
of light
flashing
like a beacon on the edge
of roughest waters—
circling and casting out
hope into the fog—
moaning in desperation
long at the side of grief—
the sharp boulders
that will not yield
no matter how they are tossed
in the healing waters of the salty sea.

My love for you
was thrust into a bottle
and conveniently corked
so many lives ago
when I first discovered
you could not be trusted
to honor anything
but the enormous space
you needed to take up in the universe.

I bobbed in that heavy mercury
looking for the waves
that would take me
safely to shore—
to the soft sand of forgiveness
that could not save me
from washing overboard.

In this year
I have unexpectedly
become a blue beachcomber.
Blue in the twilight of all that must
be recovered and released
like the smooth treasures of sea glass
and perfectly sun-bleached shells.