Penelope

Taylor Graham

How long has your sailor husband
floated out to his slick
adventures, leaving you dry on land
in this dump you’ve been trying to fix
up, just for the two of you?
You loved how it overlooks the sea,

before it seemed an ocean
overwhelmed you, as oceans will.
He’s gone beyond the visible surface
and when he comes back, what tales
he’ll tell about coral reefs
you’ve never visited, and rave
about the grace of neon fishes
seen through aquamarine.

You can bet he won’t even notice
how you’ve been unraveling the carpets
to keep salt waves from dissolving
the thread; how your window
fills with wind as far out
as a stormy horizon. Let him go
again, slipping past the tide

as you bang the sea-pane closed
against whatever stories he’s making
up to bring you back. He might
as well drown.

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