Walking On Jigsaw Waves

crowded, my feelings - rolling hitch. i lay on the broiler pan scorched, unturned. even if i could climb to the top of a mountain, spy out the lay of the land, i’d only see spears of rain landing on the sea, on the dock; glaring up at me “You’re next!” my progeny making mincemeat. the waves lapping, higher and higher in the boat, imagined tapping - high heels heavily polished, skirts over my head. i’m drowning. dreaded the text, the letter, video chat which way to turn. the multidirectional scarecrow’s no help; never was. the heart throbs, the pain of love. no one knows except a woman walking on jigsaw waves, falling through the gaps, gasping for air with no one to catch, as i sink in despair, yet... my spouse snatches me up by the back of my shirt, shakes off the wet dog look, sets me on dry land, wraps a towel around my wounds, looks into my eyes with laser precision, with the brain of a tinman. i pound on his coat of arms; he says “Look! There’s no witch around.” we get on our knees. we raise our hands above the fray. we hear the song of heaven’s angels, a ladder lowered for us to climb, higher and higher. the chimes, of a grandfather clock, answer the piquant question in ways not imagined on earth. calmness of a clear blue sky floating on unencumbered clouds — agape all around. 7/10/2020 *Rolling hitch - a type of sailor knot **agape - the highest of loves