Love, is there an answer?
is it the trigger?
the one
the one that makes my hands shrink into my childhood
the one that activates that waggling form in the shorebird’s cruel mouth
the one that makes my sweat run cold on the nape of my neck where she hurt me
the one where you hang up the call and I sit there in my pool
of self-pity
the end of our connection, a self-mutilation?
I want to be a featherweight champion, a bubbling friend, a respectable lover
I want and want and then get drunk on the desire itself
no need for substances when the emotions are their own ride with a fantasy to tether
fantasy becomes reality and I am a crab
I look for the gentle swaying of an ocean
the scent of sea spray
its cleansing
I’m covered in grime and sand and the ocean is so filthy and pure
my legs take over and my hands pinch and the waves crash
So what is it? Love?
Hachi Chuku is a Managing Editor for Nimrod International Journal. Their work explores family, nature, and mental health within the realms of fiction and poetry. When they are not writing, they love to crochet. They can be found on substack @curioodes.