I am where Poseidon rest his head at night
and holds his trident beneath the Earth.
My arms know no limits until I meet the sky.
As the sun’s eyes grew weary from a day
of burning its rays in a delicious warmth –
melting the inner parts of the soul, I stare
into the sky which reflected the wide stroke
of peach, a thin layer of minty lavender,
and Red uttering its name to be remembered
forever. Some call me Home and others pass
through me as guests but as the night came
to claim his throne, I heard a cry so soft and gentle
that I could clasp it with one hand and crush its spirit.
I knew the four-door, that matched the blackness
of my abyss that not even Poseidon came to visit,
slipped where it did not belong. I saw her with her
golden hair lit by the names in the sky as she played
tug-of-war with her mother who was limp, a face
decorated by a different kind of red, the one that tastes
metallic and flows like hot chocolate. I could not bear
to bury two human bodies tonight. So I whispered
to the wind to carry her where her soft hands
can feel the hardness of the ground. Selfishly, I left
her to sink to sink into sorrow instead of in me, the sea.
