This is my friend Kaitlin’s poem. It is pastoral. I believe you become her.

Coastlines

Wind-whipped hair slices damp against my face,

my arms held wide, fingers splaying, gripping at the rain.

The sound of tires slapping wet pavement follows me

shrinking in my ears as I stretch the distance.

Remnants of worn glass and jagged pieces of crushed shells

litter the ground cracking under the pressure of my shoes;

I’m sinking.

Water leaking from my eyes leaves a gritty trail down

the sides of my cheek, and I force myself to stop a few inches away.

I can see the line where the world juts off,

nothing there to separate the sky from the waves just a

blackness pushing against a charcoal sky, a glass surface

reflecting the darkness below —

it keeps screaming out warnings,

pushing back against my shins each time I move forward to meet it.

I feel a companionship in the wildness here, the darkness,

a pull that’s dragging me forward making me want to scream,

you are as lovely as you are wild, just like me.

– Kaitlin Moran

I love it.

Thank you for allowing me to share, Kaitlin.