by Emily Strauss

Speech and writing are as air
and ocean, the flow of words
thick, like sinking into unlit
sea caves warmed by tropical
currents, tangled in seaweed.

We dive into this element willfully
seeking the meanings we generate
ourselves, probing the depths
of each other’s minds reflected in
the uncertain mirrors of water.

Words become our intercourse,
we swim nightly towards each other
meeting as if by chance in the dark
through the pressure of the waves.
Dropping into surfeit, drowning

in silent space, mouthed words flow
impalpably within our shared cavern,
messages pass like schools of tiny fish.
Finally bridging the gap we emerge
wet but satiated on our disparate shores.

Emily Strauss has an M.A. in English, but is self-taught in poetry. Over 150 of her poems appear in dozens of online venues and in anthologies, recently including Catamaran Literary Reader, Iron Gall Press, and Twisted Vine Literary Art Journal. The natural world is generally her framework; she often focuses on the tension between nature and humanity, using concrete images to illuminate the loss of meaning between them. She is a semi-retired teacher living in California.