My thoughts on the saying, “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”
Distance yawns across
swells of a choppy ocean
guiding buoys waterlogged
thick with seawater
pregnant inamorata’s
legs up, toes to the sky
hair billowing like kelp
pulled adrift by currents
foiling their warning
of dangers.
And the sturdy land
on each shore
knows not of the other
absorbed each in itself
having a neck so long
that even a passing breeze
stirs it to attention
self sustaining
enough distraction
and it forgets the gulf
But if ever
the shelves of their land touch
passion melts hard stone
and fuses rocky plates
only then
can they see each other
otherwise
they both believe
the other does not
exist.