Continental Drift
Annika Weber
Dedicated to the orphan tsunami
The fundamentals of the floating trees.
Say it’s dark inside and
he is standing there about the channel,
waves accruing everywhere.
Who knows you can’t
leave the tide
to sleep alone.
Tell him,
he needs to hear.
“The slivers that course down your legs,
they’re not some simple chord,
not a childhood memory
meant to feed
the hummingbirds in batches of two.”
Say it’s dark outside and
he is standing there with the moonlight.
I know that
now he doesn’t want to remember and
nor do I.
That, if you just crack--
if you think you can just
say it!
all right now--
That, if you crack the pleasant rights
of squares alive
the passage may capture,
deposit a
common subject:
Tilted captains swimming with the birds and
the ones who run from the waves
what is running
to the waves
recall only the wings
and refill their sugar water.
The fundamentals of the floating trees.
Say it’s dark inside and
he is standing there about the channel,
waves accruing everywhere.
Who knows you can’t
leave the tide
to sleep alone.
Tell him,
he needs to hear.
“The slivers that course down your legs,
they’re not some simple chord,
not a childhood memory
meant to feed
the hummingbirds in batches of two.”
Say it’s dark outside and
he is standing there with the moonlight.
I know that
now he doesn’t want to remember and
nor do I.
That, if you just crack--
if you think you can just
say it!
all right now--
That, if you crack the pleasant rights
of squares alive
the passage may capture,
deposit a
common subject:
Tilted captains swimming with the birds and
the ones who run from the waves
what is running
to the waves
recall only the wings
and refill their sugar water.
Annika (PO '27) is Pomona junior from Seattle, WA, but likes to claim a "regional identity" likely rejected by everyone from Eastern Washington. She loves running, arugula, sometimes politics, and often overlooked creatures of the water.