Dry, silver scales speak on my tongue
of glittering waves and the deepest depths.
But I can only reach them when
the blue calls me back.
When the blue calls me back and
the silver scales become me.
I long to dive down inside my mind
to search for the reason why;
I cannot recall ever being this hungry
for something my memory no longer holds.
Yet the pumping of my heart mirrors
the weight of liquid cornflowers.
And I know the foam will gather.