Shaleen Rakesh

Deep blue underwater filming the final cut  the final act on videotape I barely hold on, and break into tears  it's the pressure, pain. sand  on the ocean floor  that gets me the shifting 
bodies editing the final scream then it cuts to black
 you shout pack up and I wake up on a different shore.

A haze of steam allows me  to be discreet and so like bluish vapour and pungent sap I'm everywhere  not even woodsy  or rain-kissed or exotic I am working sweat  dripping  in dampness to return to you  the drops in your sweet soft eyes 

Voices from the surreal
 bringing echoes of your internal war
s and news  that we are losing  day after day start taking possession within me, of me.  maybe
 if your earnest words can dissolve these nerves I will grant you the wings
 to answer the prayer I read in your eyes the first time we met smoke rose  between your fingers
 casual prayers  you didn’t utter.