Avoiding the tide of a stranger in another room,
I walk to my sea.
I long for unbroken shorelines, mourn what is lost.
A seahorse lies stiff in my hand.
The tide takes my name. Manta rays fly into view, ghost of shark joins the flock.
I seek scarlet saturation
in tide pools holding an entire world.
My pen scratches watermarks on broken shell.
Waves surge in dreams and darkness, roil the sea bottom,
carry my petition to tender anemones.