beach-768587_1920

Brine

He should have drowned that night;

He knows this

Deep-down as the water goes.

His mother thinks the sea

Must have taken pity

On his poor sinner soul,

But he is unconvinced,

Says there’s no benevolence

In the dark and the deep-down.

The water still speaks to him–

Its voice hushed and delicate

As it beckons him home.

Some mornings he feels the tide still rising

In the back of his throat.