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FOR WATERLOGGED HEARTS
by Eloise Archer
.FOR WATERLOGGED HEARTS.
IT’S SUMMER AND WE’RE ON A BEACH
WATCHING THE WAVES CRASH AGAINST ROCKS
LIKE THEY’RE IN LOVE WITH THE SHORE.
THERE'S A BLOATED WHALE WASHED UP ON THE BRINK,
HALF IN,
HALF OUT OF THE OCEAN.
HALF IN,
HALF OUT.
I'M HALF LOOKING AT YOU
HALF LOOKING FOR WITNESSES
OF ME
LOOKING AT YOU
AND THE SAND FEELS LIKE GRAVEL BENEATH MY FEET.
THIS IS WHERE BEAUTIFUL THINGS GO TO DIE.
THIS IS WHERE BEAUTIFUL THINGS
LOOK AT YOU AND YOUR HEART STOPS BEATING
AND I WANT TO SAVE YOU FROM DROWNING
SO I CAN CARRY YOU IN MY LUNGS.
OKAY, FINE.
SO I'M NOT SOLD ON THIS WHOLE THING:
OF THROWING OUR BODIES INTO THE OCEAN
AND PRETENDING IT'S NOT ABOUT BEING WASHED CLEAN,
THAT WE'RE NOT BOTH GOING TO DIG OUR NAILS
INTO THE FLOORBOARDS.
HAVE YOU HEARD THE STORY ABOUT THE SINKING SHIP?
OF HOW LOVERS TORE AT EACH OTHERS BODIES
SO THEY COULD SAY THEY HELD OUT THE LONGEST.
OF GRABBING AT ANKLES AND SAYING "I SAVED YOU"
I SAVED YOU, DIDN'T YOU SEE;
I BROKE MY SHOULDERS AND USED THEM AS OARS
TO PULL YOU FROM THE RIVER.
OCEAN, NOT RIVER.
SHIT, YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN;
I KEEP PULLING MYSELF TO PIECES
FOR A CHANCE AT TOUCHING YOU.
I KEEP PLAYING OFF DEATH WISHES AS BRAVERY
AND YOU KEEP GIVING ME THAT KNOWING LOOK
AND HIDING ALL THE KNIVES IN THE CUPBOARD
UNDER THE SINK.
WE BOTH KEEP ENDING UP WITH BLOOD ON OUR HANDS
AND PRETENDING IT'S MINE.
"LOOK, THERE'S FOUR CHAIRS;
IT'S LIKE A REAL APARTMENT NOW."
THERE IS A SAFETY
IN THE PERFORMANCE OF OBJECTS.
YOU KNOW THIS PART:
NEITHER OF US WANTS TO BE HERE.
YOU KNOW THE SAYING:
THE SHOW MUST GO ON.
THE SHOW HAS RECEIVED POOR REVIEWS.
THE SHOW HATES THE COLOUR OF THEIR KITCHEN
BECAUSE IT REMINDS THEM OF YOUR EYES.
THE SHOW IS TERRIFIED.
SO WE KEEP DRESSING UP DEAD THINGS
AND PRETENDING WE DON'T THINK ABOUT
HOW DIFFERENT IT WOULD BE
IF I COULD LOVE YOU
WHEN OTHER PEOPLE WERE AROUND,
IF YOU COULD LOOK AT ME
WITHOUT SEEING THEIR HANDS.
WE'RE BOTH COPING, ALL THINGS CONSIDERED.
ALL THINGS CONSIDERED A FEW CORPSES
AREN'T THAT BIG OF A DEAL.
YOU KNOW, IN THE GRAND SCHEME OF THINGS.
SO IT GOES LIKE THIS:
I TOOK MY LOVE OUT TO THE SEA
I LOOKED AT LOVE AND IT LOOKED BACK AT ME.
LOVE, LOVE, LOVE
AND ALL THAT JAZZ.
ALL THAT RINGING AT THE BOTTOM OF THE OCEAN;
REEDS LAZILY REACHING FOR THE SUN,
LOVE PULLING YOU UNDER.
TELL ME TO JUMP AND I'LL WRAP SILK
AROUND MY BODY LIKE A DEAD DOG;
CUT GILLS FROM RIBBONS.
TELL ME TO BUILD YOU AN ISLAND AND-
YES, I KNOW;
HERE I GO AGAIN
MAKING PROMISES I CAN'T KEEP.
SAYING PRETTY THINGS
FOR THE SAKE OF THEM BEING PRETTY.
COME ON,
IT SOUNDS NICE, DOESN'T IT?
BLEACHED BONES AND BLUE WATER?
WHERE EVERY SIREN SOUNDS LIKE CHURCH BELLS
AND EVERY MIRROR IS
JUST A MIRROR.
LET'S TALK ABOUT SHORES, SWEETHEART.
LET'S TALK ABOUT THE HOMES WE BUILD
AND THE PLACES WE FIND TO BURY THEM.