On the shoreline, you surface
if only in memory, love akin to infrared
waves—invisible to the human eye.
Where do I hold you within me?
Not in my heart, organ that will beat
a billion times in this life.
Encoded and stored like light waves
or x-rays that move through soft tissue,
sear into bone, you are always there.
Unlike my terrier who burrows his nose in wet sand,
then moves into a full body dig. On the ride home,
he’ll carry the remnants of dead crab and seaweed,
and snore in his car-seat from sweet exhaustion.
Will you recede into the neural network of my mind
while I drive into the imperceptible blue waves of dusk?
PRISCILLA ORR, author of Jugglers & Tides and Losing the Horizon from Hannacroix Creek Books, has published in Southern Poetry Review, Tiferet and other journals. She’s a Geraldine. R Dodge poet and founding Director of the Silconas Poetry Center and The Stillwater Review. She lives with Crosby, her spirited terrier.