Poetry

Marc Corrales

Before long, there’s an enquiry
about where we would go from there.

The arguing, scorching, fiery,
not even our bed could make it wear.

...

Twisting and writhing tidal waves cradled by insanity of whether or not
I even feel anything for a water bearer anymore?

...

We have to do this,

We have to separate him from his family.

He will not survive out here, not with those cuts.

...

A cool breeze brings the enveloping scent of spring in the air.

Freshly budding bushes hide signs that say ‘don’t climb’.

...

A Siren calls out to the ocean,

Lulling you to safety,

Reassured by the

Kindness in their eyes.

...

I do not understand when you say the word ‘no’.

It always sounds the same

...