the wilder

In the ripeness of the evening tide you were there
a body
bobbing
on the curl of a wave making laps to toward a rock which you would
slam
and I would watch
not to protect your many tales from tumbling
out but to collect up
the self-destructive laundry
post-wash
for the ninety-sixth time
and time would challenge me
as I am a stronger swimmer
and am comforted and physically stimulated by the cold
the jellies will not mind me
as I lose track of purpose
leave you there resting
in a gaining circumference of red
sea weed binds my feet
but not you
I am free of you