From the Shore
You call to us now from that not-too-distant shore
Morning, noon, night, you call
Voice moist, carried by a skeletal breeze
But you don’t need to call
Hell, we can see you there, sitting, knees to chest, hands locked,
rocking a bit when the mood strikes, whistling, giggling, sighing, crying
You’re a monument in sand
On that not-too-distant shore
No, we want to be the ones calling you in the middle of the night to make sure you know things are not all right
We want our voices to penetrate your ears and pierce your heart and leaden your guts and turn your spirit into so much vaporous dust
We want to be the ones frozen in time, captured in a photo here or there, free from watching the rest of us go blip!blip!blip!
And lakes and rivers and lakes and oceans
Bodies of water we have been in and on
Bodies of water between us and you
Bodies
Bodies\