You have led me into the middle
of the Atlantic ocean; how dare you
take me out to the current
between our two worlds
and stroke such ache into my soul?
I would be there in an instant,
to drift over on a beaten raft
to your shores,
were the world much smaller,
and the need to write poetry much less great.
There is something awfully appealing
about drowning in your stories,
and I know it’s what you want,
and what I want too, as
I open my eyes to a bedroom
in a diluted city, but
still find sea water
in my heart.