lashing out at vacant emissaries
slipping through my every vein
weighing down while rising up
at once, you burrow
bend, graze, break
against my empty palm

tipped forward now and
even more weighted
tipped backward now
our tethered hearts fill
and sending beats rippling
ripping through my frame
you disappear completely

bubbles brush under thighs
teeth, temporary, tooth
nip over this waist
nestle in this wrist
I need you, an anemone
nested in a womb

be idle, be still
settle as I crack
take me, leave me
a shadow beneath a wave
I’d rather be
your cortical home

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Caridad Cole is a forest-raised writer and filmmaker. With a Pushcart Prize nomination and other literary recognitions, her work has recently appeared in The Poetry Lighthouse, Coffin Bell Journal, and An Anthology of Rural Stories by Writers of Color 2024 (EastOver Press). Say hi at caridadcole.com or @astrocari on Instagram.