by Frank Sung
The unforgivingness tied to your swimming beauty
spewed through the fabric of my Life.
My shaking hands grasped with a slippery clutch
filled with some kind of love that left your hips.
I toiled and writhed unbecoming, a wet movement
when you buried me in your ocean roar,
a bare back tide of overflowingness too large
for me to swallow (from sea to shining sea!)
Crash after crash, kiss after kiss,
each unmistakable passing of flood
brought dripping feet into depths of drumming oceans so blue
my heart stopped pumping to match colors but
continued to drown ‘til drought which never came.
When you die, waterflowers will spill out of your mouth
a blossoming bouquet of breaths and sighs.