Seasick
Phantom in my ears,
a seagull cries
its hollow bark against the sky;
beneath the pier,
behind my eyes,
the tide swirls and sucks into a retreat,
tugging at the fingered kelp with fingered foam,
a heaving to and fro,
a timeless, swelling dance
of up and down;
the cavities of my sense
filled with the salted tang of brine—
I hear and see and smell their absence,
seasick on the land,
sick with longing for the sea.

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