Untethered

Time has sunk
into the pointless vastness;
fish-shaped pieces of the past
piggy back on waves of greasy unresolved,
arranging themselves
on a frothing shore
into shiny blue scaled question marks.

I walk this coast,
sometimes alone,
sometimes with you,
you, the sand on my back,
the pebble in my shoe,
you, the dead eyes, the gills and the fins
asking me again
and again, why?

I walk this coast,
sometimes alone,
sometimes with you,
you, the water that isn’t wet,
floating below my naked feet,
you, the tide tugging my waist,
dragging me down to see the wreckage;
but the future is untethered from time
it wanders through the clouds,
with no context,
with no consequence,
and the past
litters our timeless sands.

I gather the questions,
drenched in death,
the imploring eyes
the twitching fins
and the trembling gills that
dare to breathe your scent.
I walk this coast
sometimes alone,
sometimes with you,
you, in fish shaped pieces
dead in my hands
untethered,
unresolved,
still asking why.