I’m rowing across the channel
two oars a wooden boat and a simple sail
touching dog blanket grey coat waves
salt residue silently clings in the cold
onto my knuckles
I’ve touched the Pacific Ocean
before Now I know what unfriendly can mean
no point searching for warm womb wraps
this water will not offer me food play rest
Fighting to see you
Forgotten how hard these rains are
Missing the kissing of sun lip’s humid breath
Thought my compass was waterproof
I might as well row backwards facing the sea
Need a windcheater
Subscribed to cheating death again
Feet nowhere near the ground nor floating in air
It’s the icy water of Hades that holds
wood Never confuse fire with death when it’s life
nor sadness for sky
Philosophy is of no use
when sailing, rowing or following a map
Knowledge of the distance between
my boat and your house the mathematics of it
steers straight and propels
I’m rowing across the channel
I’m sailing over the Atlantic ocean
I’m leaving all my books behind
I’m struggling against heaven heavy sharp rain
To hold you again
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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