When you go I become

the sea gull begging salt from

from briny air.

My veins are a winding tunnel

of purple sea.

I channel you in the night owl’s

perpetual call that awakens my

subconscious to virtual desire.

At dawn your shirt hangs from a

bed post in buttery sunlight

and I’ve become so small I could slip

inside the lining of your chest

sheltered by the warmth of your

skin where Ilong to be.

Art by Anuraag