The ship rolled over the waves, rippled in
your black suit, pooled in the corner of my eye;
millions of flowers breathe with the foam, breathe
in and out; I can’t.
You always said each petal
was a poem awaiting, waiting to happen;
and I don’t read poetry, but you’re surrounded
by them.
I wonder where you are in their faces, why
I can’t find you in your brother’s freckles,
the way your cousin ducks his head; show me
ticket stubs, boardwalks, and kisses.
See if their voices can carry your scent,
make the horizon line disappear into the crease
of your brow, as you con
