Your mouth said so long from so long said
high tide's not a timid girl is what is missing.
I could clap flippers skip the asterisk
and hop a plane. Some mouths say nets and not
nets to trust around anyone's daughter.
Ask what's on tap in the shape of a ship.
A mouth in a bottle is no kiss sealed
to sender. In it remainders and no answer
and a thin relic at that. Any ocean
is old enough to know better. Your mouth
to mine is departures arrivals a flawless ledger.
Some mouths say swim at your own risk say salt
again is stingy dinner. My mouth remains
a faithful measure. Some mouths say shark
in shallow water but I suspect the waves
wash in on empty and someone had to
truck in all this sand from elsewhere here.
by Dora Malech
published in Poetry London
and also by Verse Daily®
photo by bskar via flickr
Robin Reagler 