Seaside Rendez-Vous

Lorelei Bacht

by

There is no next step. The sea walls us in.
We have run out of meanders, freshwater
Arguments, teacups - they have all been
Broken, and it is hard to imagine throwing
Seaglass at each other. We stand stunned.
There is no next step. The sea walls us in.

I was born a river, tangled in waterthymes.
I imagined you keelboat, flat hat, imagined
You cichlid, before finding you out: you are
The cold and heavy rock bottom, the sink.
We have run out of keyholes, nets and lines.
There is no next step. The sea walls us in.

I want to imagine that we have learned
Something along the way, picked up a trade,
A good habit. We must have developed
Something close to friendship. We consider
Our blues in its immensity - what now?
There is no next step. The sea walls us in.

Lorelei Bacht was born to a family of seafarers and stone carvers. Named after river legends, she has been meandering over three continents while waiting for an estuary. Her recent work has appeared and/or is forthcoming in Litehouse, SWWIM, Visitant, Quail Bell, The Wondrous Real, Abridged and Odd Magazine. She can be found on Instagram: @lorelei.bacht.writer