The moon is wider than usual
and I was born at the start of July,
the saltwater i swallowed when I was six
Wallowing pooled in the dip of my lungs
usually sways with my hips but today,
today it pulls like a tide.
Compass, hide from the part of me
that aches through my knuckles
to walk to the sea, edge where we
offered the warmth of our toes.
To Poseidon, poor old man,
cold to the bones.