Mare Imbrium

Mornings, when the tide recedes

I breathe with the egrets.

She averts her gaze

And the glaciation follows

scraping against my sternum and face,

a landscape of liminalities.

Here, she is afraid to harm herself

and watches me carve her pain from my own flesh.

Here, he cries, terrified of the blood loss.

Here, her light burns sick morning to day.

Here, he breathes shallowly against my chest.

I have learned to love through the abnegation of self to water.

Constantine Mountrackis Glen Cove, New York