Eve Rounds

water sports

i prefer the deep end
depth is my comfort
of somersaults
and penny fetching
cheering high dives into
the solitude of
aqua night
my dreams float to the surface

you said
oh me too
depth is MY comfort
but you never quite made it over
the slanted threshold of four to eight

i prefer the sea
depth is my comfort
of ebbs and flows
and salting wounds
lunar parties serving
by invitation only
double sight
these visions keep me buoyant

i wave goodbye from my ship of sails
as you play catch with your self
having found a deflated beach ball
at the shallow end

a poem about you for you (and you)

you are your own though your temperament reminds me of him your head is more ripe mango while his was more soft plum my love

i don’t even know

how long it’s been. haven’t been counting days haven’t counted backwards on the calendar. haven’t bothered to reread my own words. haven’t been missing you

the five senses

your blue eyes and crooked lippy smile which i inherited that tiny soft bristle brush for your basically bald head the white corvette a campfire cards


what did falling in love feel like to you actual falling a new winter sweater a blood flutter did you question its science or were you


sometimes the wind the waves muffle and drown my memories sometimes the wind the waves magnify and amplify the sound of your voice and clearing

the theatre

this is  a silent film flickering  catching  starting over emptiness surrounding such a blinding contrast ahead of us shared stories  captured images disconnected nonsensical we