Moving Forward (circa 2013) / by Caleb Blansett

Pounding

We surge. 

The foam on the crest of the wave

the spittle issued

from between clenched teeth.

What is it that drives the sea, 

relentless?

 

 

An old man once told me it was about

love.

A lady once told me it was about

possesion. 

And a child, a child once told me it was about

giving. 

A gentle kiss on the forehead,

harsh words in the bedroom, 

a child in the doctor’s arms. 

Tell me, was it love that gave you

fear that drove you

to accept. 

A kiss on the forehead,

harsh words in the bedroom, 

does he know the tears?

 

Foam that rides the crest of the waves-

crashing upon the cliffs.

Life grows within your belly, 

kicking, flailing;

you rise to the top,

spittle between your clenched teeth. 

 

An old man said it was love

as he closed the coffin.

A lady told me it was possesion

as she undid the buckle. 

A child told me it was giving

as he held my hand. 

 

Pounding, pounding - pulsing. 

What is it that drives the sea?

Was it love that gave you

fear that made you

give it all away.