truths explode, born out of blowhole—

splattering these kitchen walls.

crimson testimonies, settling near the window above the sink.

a farmer’s sink, i always wanted.

some summer day, some slow morning, 

we painted drywall together.

my hair lazily wrapped in ponytail, biscuits rising in the oven.

i peer through glass now.

my portal amongst these seaweed shackles I have grown to know—

since uttering

I DO.

 

sinking without knowing

(becomes)

sinking without saying.

 

walls creak, as the house settles

                                     in ocean.

 

blue-bellied whale emerges, offering an erect dorsal fin,       

so that we may swim away.

:might he just swallow me instead?

5 thoughts on “ blue bellie. ”

  1. I really like this bit:
    some summer day, some slow morning,

    we painted drywall together.

    my hair lazily wrapped in ponytail, biscuits rising in the oven.

    It takes me straight to the scene, feeling the lazy comfort of that summer day. I love how personal and evocative it feels.

    Like

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