Some Other Siren

 

When you were young

you said the world

was a boat.

You could hear it creaking—

the aching of the beams.

 

The sky the sea.

 

When you were young

you broke your fingers

under the piano lid.

You could hear it afterwards—

music scarring your bones.

 

The notes the fracture.

 

When you were young

you hid for years

under water.

You could hear it rushing—

the future was a wave.

 

The crash the dream.

 

When you were young

you disappeared

tiny pieces at a time.

You could hear the leaving—

one breath after another.

 

The sea the sky.

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