The Way He... Poem by Nicholas Caldwell

The tree outside
told me to stop sitting.
I listened this time,
baffled by his obscenities.
So I took a walk
by the sea in my mind.
Violent waves tonight,
the crashes, claps of thunder.
No blue in the water,
it’s as black as empty space.
The fish were polite enough,
though they stared a bit too much,
with smoldering snake eyes.
I didn’t mind it,
at least they took the time to look
at me and my other.
What other?
That one, the shadow there.
He likes to stay by me,
but doesn’t show a face.
He sounds like me,
only much sadder.
He enjoys the thorns,
instead of the rose.
It’s troubling,
the way he grows.