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.