five months sleeping underwater

There’s cider in apple cans

barbecue tacos in cardboard tins

but this Kia driving through Manhattan

flows past FDR into the east river

gasping I watch it back

black and white silent films

blurred in blue and warped

under intense pressure

I can still hear the words

as though you’re breathing

to me from the depths

a clear picture may emerge,

but it’s like I’m submerged

present never moving toward

it like the waves rocking back

and forth against me at night

when I beg for the saving grace

comfort you used to provide.

Dead arms heavy with seawater

lay flat against my sides when

I beg for you this way I look out

through groggy water to see your

grimacing face

I know I’m healing from you

letting these tides cleanse the wounds you made.