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

good morning untitled

what happens now save every voicemail not that his tone would have been forgotten but to hear him call me tweety as many times as

snip snip

the magic of a fresh cut i am literally lighter though not by much my shoulders have less to lug my neck has less to

but ok but

write some poems that i can give him ok (but they’ll all be about the hims) good idea bad idea no good twinning and losing

a 5 7 5 for e

peering through thick glass your back to me is waiting any news at all? running down broad steps into your brotherly arms crying without breath!


is it the ticking of the third hand or the faucet dripping onto discount bulk blueberries both measuring time “going in circles” as he would

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