Some nights we both dream of teeth.
I wake from my noisy engine of sleep.
You wake from yours.
By morning, the marsh erases what is lost—
My teeth swim forward like minnows
caught in a Ziplock of breath.
Some nights I hear you chew your bright lips.
I think of white cabbage tacos &
also, of clams.
All evening the mudflats tongue at my window.
I want to throw back today's harvest,
all the living rocks in my pail.
Tonight, the sky drops another shiny molar.
The wedge footed moon crawls for the sea.
I fall asleep and my crumbling words build remote islands.
Only you, with your hollow beak, can fly that far.
