Two Hearts
I am not a woman who stays, growing roots with care,
but I remember the pull of the tides on that blue,
blue day when desire coated our limbs like sand.
We slipped in, fish returned to our headwaters. Two bodies
stirring up the sea until clouds mixed with riptides, jellies spun
into celestial beings.
My heart longed to drop over the horizon. Disappear like a ship
in the night. It pulled taunt against the promise of a man I could love.
His shadow swimming to shore. My face turned to the sky.
Or was it the sea?
*
Liz Weber is a writer born and raised in Kentucky, who now finds herself living in Idaho. She holds an MA in journalism from American University and her work has appeared in The Washington Post, High Country News, Beyond Words Magazine, Sky Island Journal, and various publications around the western U.S.
