A Poem by Catherine Weiss

Deflation

 

I used to love the tides,

The taste of chilled salt air,

And the granite boulders scattered along the shoreline

Like dice cast in a glacial game of craps.

But there came a morning when

I looked for the ocean and I saw nothing but

Miles of seaweed shining in the sun,

Deflated.

I picked my way down the slope past the low tide mark

Where I swam the week before,

Now stepping carefully rock to rock.

A mackerel flapped at my feet,

The smacking sound too loud.

I stood with the fish

Until it was still.

 

“You disgust me,”

He said on the last night we spent together.

I sat on the floor and did not cry.

Later, the apology swooped in like a vaudeville hook,

But true things linger.

 

Tectonic plates drag apart

So slowly.

Solid rock splits unnoticed until

Continents are separated by an ocean

So vast the far coast is

Invisible.

 

The sun was hot and

The fish was dead.

Pebbles and silt underfoot

Warm and sharp,

Black grit between my toes.

I could hear the armored legs of a crab

Tottering towards the trench ahead.

It disappeared over the edge

And I followed.

Climbing down the cliffside,

Hand over hand,

The wall slick,

Damp algae underneath my fingernails.

The abyss was drained of sea-water and

The fall, when it came, was infinite.

 

 

 

Catherine Weiss is a poet and author living in Northampton, MA.  In her spare time she enjoys ping pong, monopoly, and audiobooks.  Her website with more info can be found at http://catherineweiss.com.