Pelagic Hummingbird

I imagine us talking not around it, but under it. I imagine that the knowing of what each other knows is enough. Just enough. And that the warmness that expands like ink in wat is the same for us both. babybeach

We gather ourselves in the oceans behind our hearts. Out here, in the pelagic, we are thousands of nautical miles from any shore of any cotenant. And so, we are lawless. Immune to the confines of what any group of men in uniforms put into place.

Its deeper and bluer and more clear here than I ever could have imagined. But its enough that our toes point in the direction of what lies beyond. And it’s enough that our eyes continue to find each other, suddenly and completely arrested.

Perhaps on another planet, at this very moment, we are waltzing. Perhaps in another life, I’m giving birth to you as I feel your body pulse and twist through me, and in that moment, also become you as your tiny lungs accept the strange weight of air.  And perhaps it’s because of all of this that I suddenly feel electric next to you. There’s a current that runs through us and the salt water of our cells knows this fully.

And yet my mind feeds in tiny drops of red nectar from what is unknown. And this hummingbird heart rests at 250 bpm. But I know when to break and how to follow the seam that was stitched 28 years ago. I know with precision how to pluck each bright feather and I’m learning the discipline to molt.

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