By Molly Banks
Will my edges ever soften?
Unlikely.
They are so good at being edges after all
Carving out and away
giving me Shape
giving me a Name
This morning I knew my Shape
I knew my Name
I watched, untickled
As you surged up against my pristine borders
Just around noon
Though…. I guess I must have blinked
When your golden edges
Feathered effortlessly
into that eastern barrier
And now
As you move next to me
your rhythms notice mine
They do not shift
But they are subtly persuaded
As I am
Your inconsistent crashing
Adds interest to my rhythm
You seem to think mine are the inconsistency
Thats funny
Now I’m not sure why I’m laughing
Or why in the moonlight
it’s so much harder to identify
Where my ripples end and yours begin
Dusk seems to have melted something in me
or between us
With the skies matching both our blues
I seem
to have lost track
of my Shape
And without a way to find our Difference
I might
just for tonight
be disinterested in my Name
But you haven’t asked all day