Ocean Ocean

By Susan Austin

I want to shake off sickness the way a dog
shakes off water from a garden hose.
I want to scream but the screaming’s been done.
I want to walk back in the bar and ask him to take me
home. I want to
dance, buy brown boots with sensible heels, eat lavishly, sweetly,
cartwheel, cartwheel.
I want a return guarantee.
I want grime, gritty, sleuth, the hollow
at the base of his throat.
Ocean, ocean.
I want to outlaw floor 15.
I want the garden hose and the dog and jubilation,
to roll back time to when he last smiled,
to tango with Roshi in the zendo
the way he embraced the woman with pale ankles.

Categories: Issue 6, Poetry | Leave a comment

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