underneath the sea
I am floating away,
drowning and dreaming.

Water Song

On the boat from Haiti I died –

I died from the letters that drifted into the ocean,

melted into the water.

I died as the ink washed away

page after page of words

I wrote you.

I died at the thought of you –

alone – never knowing, truly

how much I loved you.

The truth is

I died the moment

I caught my last glimpse

of you.


On the boat from Haiti

I was a ghost

lamenting my lost love.


Sleepless night, sleepless day,

Pass everything by – I’m in a haze,

my mind is a fog –

memories displaced,

my thoughts are a puzzle

with scattered pieces.


I lay awake at night

and watch stains on my ceiling,

I dream awake at daylight,

the stars and the moon –

I’m merely an image now

of what I used to be.


Imagine the city

with its throngs of people,

crowds melting into each other,

voices blending together –

and amidst all, there’s you –

a lonely voice – unheard,

a lost face

in this crowded space.



I walk around with your words echoing in my mind,

I walk around with our unfinished story

reverberating in my head.


You are more broken

than I could have thought –

your scars fill pages of my diary,

words upon words

I poured out through my tears.


I wrote you a letter

and spilled my hateful heart

all over its pages –

and I forgive you now.


In my head, I’ve already written our end –

happier than you ever could have been.


Eyes are the windows to a soul –

yours are an azure blue nightmare

haunting my sleep.


pink and white blossoms

floating gently to the ground,

like fresh falling snow.


In a dream I see you,

clear as light of day,

the smoke surrounding you vanished,

walls around you disappeared –

and you are no more than a memory

for me to forget.

Gone Fishing

The boat sways with the water,

fisherman sways against the wind,

wipes sweat away from brow,

pulls another net in.

The fish gasp in oxygen –

thrash in agony –

fisherman sighs against the rising sun.

This heat is unbearable.

This oxygen is unbearable.


Market day – stalls filled with dead fish –

eyes wide open, mouths wide open –

as if taking in the last breath of toxic air

in a desperate attempt to survive.

The smell of fish is overpowering –

people pour in from all corners – eyes alert.

Fisherman watches on,

wipes sweat away from brows –

this heat is unbearable.