Child, please.
Listen when I tell you
that every time I crashed
I left something even
as I took away.

They are here, you know.

& isn’t that
a salt-baked glory,
a limb bruised blue and buried in the kelp?

Grief is a tide.
you let the waters take you,
glorious man turned
moon-kissed boy.

I see you thrashing in
the flotsam of night, every night
a re-gifting of the tide
you love so dearly
but cannot forgive.

They are here, you know.
Every one them.
Every one you’ve ever loved
was made by and of
blood, sweat, tears.

I gave them to you,
& How divine,
To live long enough to return a favor?

Everything sea foam
and bone
is perfect.

Every glassy curl
lit up in the sun’s silver nightcap
is flawless.
In here,
everyone who ever was
is waiting.

They are here, you know.
Waiting. I saw them blue.

One by one,
they are counting the leagues back to you
&
that’s
Love

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DJ Rogers is a poet, essayist, and silly person living in North Carolina. He is the current sitting Poet Laureate of his city. He’s thankful for all of life’s little opportunities.