11
tides
Scattered memories of you, specks of light
illuminating from fireflies flickering at night
over fields freckled with flax and
dew drenched with ache.
You were the full moon, I the sandy shore,
your gravitational drag incessant,
leaving slack water between us,
halting us at low tide
until desiccated, I blew away
and you waned.
I collect fireflies in my net
to reconstruct events
and testify in my defence,
needing to forgive and be forgiven
and return the frozen ocean to diurnal tides.