drag you across the risky waters,

where the distances are longer,

where pain has laws.

On your face a wave as long as a tomb,

behind you, the cities you left,

all moved, like winded and un-winded

hearts. I look for your bruises,

knowing some damages are irreparable.

I listen: No one dies in the sea alone.

I wonder how it’s possible,

decades later, across continents,

not to find all the parts of you I need.

I take you back to the waters,

take you back to the waves,

to the blue we break and unbreak.

We enter. We get lost. And salt, salt, salt

holds the sea in us, the way desire

holds distance, and deities hold death.