Like this. Unplugged,
to float we reach towards
each other’s melting. Walls
unhiding raw from broken
heart and breath. Unforced.

Like tears, politely clear at first,
then sad, or gastric acid red,
we crash in tidal waves of gush
that bring the waves
that bring the waves
that bring the rest.

Like this. Upstream,
undone, renamed, and kissed
by other wounds to do the same,
we blink and shake our heads
and look around.

Sarah Orrell