scattered throughout our timelines
By Spandana Pillarisetty

I was looking out for you       and me 
this morning at high tide 
as the full moon told us
to cross our limits

family leave little stories
and my body gathers them up
like shells on the beach
polishing some 
and burying others

dog bites and distances
damp and long
a memory is triggered 
when the elevator lady
tells me to
                        please close the door

we shower with gold
microdosing our ancestor’s financial security
to the maximum, as we take a breath in
skin pressed by the pattern of the plastic mat
square breathing:
breath in sharply for one
                                     (two three four)

The waves are softer at eleven 
fish feed near the rocks
and tug on the line
until my hands smell like guts

corellas sit on the tree
                       shit on you

rainbow bee-eaters come here everyday
whether you are here or not

lemongrass is tied in a bundle
            inside a rock cod

we scan the water
mortality sometimes feels more
or less important to me
than a swim
collecting stories, we wade in

we haven’t stayed here long enough 
to form a noticeable pattern

easy breezy
rocks graze against shins
bleeding in
breaking open
we glow together 
in between 
             sunrise and sunset
the tides are our timekeepers
we settle under their breath
It’s good to be looked after like this
feels like going home
staying with family, in their house
the mattress is rock hard 
childhood distilled into the stuffing
breathe out: count one
                                      (two three four)

We let the waves come to us tonight
rolling in like a palette cleanser
we stay still for four 
                                      (three two one)

notice how the pink flowers 
tie our time together