Calm, Choppy Seas

Written by Chelsea Marie Hicks

Color me in a carnival of hues berries and gold,
glittering in a sun kissing my skin pink.
Fall falls onto bones in chills of neutral shades
but only after the greens fade to oranges bright.
Across seas, hear me crunching leaves
like words shaking off your fingertips,
and if you never sense me in the saltwater breeze,
you’re not breathing deep enough.

When you find me, I’ll be in the air
trapped, tickling your lungs–a feeling like love
only less a precursor to crushing.
I can still walk on water
though my lightness has been tampered with
by the shield, iron-clamped to my heart,
still remembering the scent of your stale sheets.

Mountains barricade my body, shuddering in memories
real and imaginary, and though the ship is sinking
with my tokens of you sealed inside,
my feet are sometimes wetted
with the notion of building a bottle to lock our illusion,
in glass, sand and calm, choppy seas.