the moon doesn’t have shores
it reflects waves, waits
for the tide

have you ever seen the sea on fire?
skin propagates flame like water distorts
depth

five oceans burned to the ground
all we ever wanted, a tree branch,
to deep our feet in chlorophyll and –
now, all we have is bitter salt
and shuttered glass

in some futures glass turns oxygen
to carbon dioxide
in this one, a green and blue polarity
oxidizes everything we plant,

if we could, we’d spit a sea
on the moon, cough
an oak in the dark side of our ego
our bones redolent of mistakes
of memories, of mosaic muscles

did you know, if we fill our lungs
with moondust
sunlight promises to quench our thirst when
our tongues turn seaweed

© 2023 Eva Papasoulioti