Mother Time

I’ve lived so many lives so far

I don’t know where

I start.

All I have is

this handful of sand,

and I’m not sure how

every second counts

as it falls through

a bottomless hourglass.

Would I take a chance

With the me that I am

For the me

That I always hoped

To be?

Time’s ticking in my favor,

Hear her?

Yes,

love,

Yes.

Lost at Sea

The sharks swim by nearly every day now,

to see what meat is left on me.

What little there is left of me.

I passed my threshold a while ago. 

Send some rain before I shrivel

 into nothing. The same waves

that rocked me to sleep

are starting to make me sick. 

I dream of the boat,

mocking, taunting,

of tacos and beer

and someone to touch.

I don’t think we end like this. 

How long can we live

when we’re all alone? But what about her?

What about her?

And so it goes on, into the nothing,

and everything inside me

sinks. I don’t think we end like this.

On the couch one afternoon

“I like my life,”

I whispered.

“I like people and I like the world,”

I said, waiting

for the shoe to drop.

I sighed, doing my best

just to smell my tea.

David Sague' makes his home on Bainbridge Island, where it's hard to not be brought back into belonging in the world. He is in grad school for counseling, and works as a Career Coach in Seattle. He most often writes his poetry on the ferry, savoring the world he lives in while dreaming of a brighter future. Connect with him on Instagram @scatteredstarspoetry.