blue boy,
what are you doing out here?
the rose on your shoulder swells with the tide.
x
if your body is the water,
your ribs are the last wooden masts
of old shipwrecks.
blue boy,
x
there is no one left
to cradle your head.
x
if you fall asleep here, on the darkening pebble beach,
there is nothing to keep you glued to the earth.
you will skip like a flat stone
over the crests of sleep,
x
from dream to dream --
x
you are borne too far on your own current.
blue boy,
x
go home.
x
the bed is not made,
sure, but when the waves start to rise
at least you will be too asleep to notice.
x
in the morning
the sheet will bend around your fists
x
in the morning
someone will either find you
x
or lose you
x
blue boy
you will become the sky
