[a sharp, swirling bluster through the blinds
a nip here and there of ice-cold wind
reminds me that it’s still too soon to go back
to the sea
to the arms of my waiting love.]

mama oceana, I’ve been trying to replicate you
heavy on my chest and light on my feet
under hopelessly dry blankets or the paltry trickle of a rose
by jumping and waiting to be held up
buoyed by my body and your breasts

mama oceana, I edge my toes into winter puddles
trying to hear you on my skin.
I pour cool baths full to the brim and spilling over
a mere mortal tribute that barely begins to satisfy me.

mama oceana I am not worthy to receive you
but let me say the words as I search to be healed.

i want the water
i want the water
i want the water

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