Words, like knotted muscles,
tense. Wonder if you can feel the
letters jumbling together, backing
up in your throat.
What makes you think I towers
over me? A capital letter? Maybe
you forgot I have one, too. My
name starts with it.
Sounds, like maddened hornets,
rise. Do they sting as they leave
your mouth? Nah, not worried.
Got my antihistamine.
That cacophony, though. Man,
what noise – hard to hear over
pollution rushing through underground
sewers, levels rising.
You forget that my Atlantic is
bigger than your filth. Despite your
spills, it thrives. Creating life in abundance,
cancelling out shore lined trash.
Crashing waves drown out your my and
mine. Washing out to sea your selfish salt
tears and empty beer bottles, bobbing in
blue black riptides.
Treasures remain – handpicked shells with
sunset curves and fragile skeletons of small
creatures. Windblown hair of a tiny one and
a taller one. Even sharks lose their teeth.