An ocean lives inside
me, and everybody knows it.


They see it rise and fall
down the mountains


of my cheek bones. They wonder
where all the water is stored.


Is it in the jars of my breast or
sweat on my skin? In the


curl of my hair between
my thighs or is it all


in my head? The waves slap
against my ribcage


and crack them into broken
eggshell pieces. Yet I smile


calmly, assuredly, like the sun
is on my sea. I know these murky


waters will wash afloat every man-
made plastic thrown into its depth.