where the midnight moon is full
and the ocean reflects like a poet.
I am a two hearted thing
and it will be this way indefinitely.
without a choice
I am anchored to a double truth
land and sea
city and suburb
man and woman
living and dying.
I am led with a conscience,
aware of duality.
Hemingway's bedroom smells like a distant grandfather
and cats sprawl across his mattress.
I touch the walls knowing my sentences are short
and I prefer dogs.
what if we woke every day before the sun rose
and wrote the virgin thoughts of morning?
I imagine this
and collecting ceramic tiles for a floor I do not own.
today, I dabbed holy water on my forehead
showing my Protestant sister
the father, the son and the Holy Spirit.
there is a difference
between a cross and a crucifix
between our skin and its response to light
between the shape of our breasts.
but we still share smiles with our eyes.
the codes in our blood are magic and human,
despite all the bits and pieces that will never match.
I am drawn to people eager to sweat
who cherish the body, the shell, and romance
who know there is no warranty
who understand maintenance is required.
Away from winter and monotony
my body whispers 'i am but once'
and the ocean reminds me to write this down.
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