Waiting
Sunlight tides, bathes the downturn of my eyes. Graciously, the dress falls to cover the legs. When I close my eyes after being in the water, I feel like I’m still floating how ocean foam feels like something you should be able to hold. Each moment tastes like salty air and sweet pea, a scent someone I loved once hated. Look, right after dawn, the sun rises. There’s a story: the Prophet said dawn is when you can distinguish the color of the black thread from the white. Some people used string. They would wait until there was enough light to see which color was which. Others looked to the sky for the line of white just below the blue-black of night’s end. Eventually, it was finally determined: he meant the sky.