Coastal Sonnet

The ocean carries the quietest of my memories —
watching the waves beneath crashing into the rocks,

wondering if anything would ever grow against the foam 
& sand, ocean reef. For four years I wore a piece of me-

teorite around my neck like the relic of an old saint.
Damned creation. I hoped it would keep me connected

even when I moved from city to city, forgetting my own
haunts. How quickly the tide rises when no one looks, the

currents bubbling under one confession or another. I watch 
the waves return & disappear. The Atlantic never warmed,

even when I tried to heat it with my own body, touching
your shoulder, holding hands. The air was still damp,

the clouds never cleared. Even the bay’s sweetgrasses brutally
prickled me with its thorns. Still I hoped spring would return.