No Man Is An Island, But That’s What I Am

You called the space between my ribs
canals – wanted to wash ashore
in the heart of me – where the tide
laps and laughs so languidly.
This island, you said, holding your
hand to my chest, God, this island.
Who brought the brick of it?
Where does it lead?

I don’t say anything, I only breathe
this cricket’s song that someday
you will make beautiful
again.

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