i know that you terrify me
in the same way that i know that i am
beautiful:
i will never admit to it.

it follows, then, that i am synesthetic;
that i tell you your name is strong colors,
and keep to myself how bloody it is --

how foreign the compilation:
between its deep greens that comfort like
wet under-shade
it is, black
white,
burgundy and dripping --

Polish names flash like swords.
usually.

but even as a sailor i have yet to run aground
off Elliot Key --
have yet to pull the jib in, have yet to come-around
still singing shanties like we used to while pulling up the curtains

because i am a sailor
in the same way that i am
beautiful:
i remember how the knots should tie but they're splicing down the seems
oh yes they are.
we used to drag our children through the lukewarm water of Miami's bay,
entangled in the turtle grass, gripping bowlines
gasping --

always gasping, always swallowing salt
in great pillars --

though we'd never come-around --
because i am a sailor
in the same way that i am


beautiful.