She beats her prison walls
froths at the mouth
her bitter anger
spits at the sky
crushes her parasite creatures
her salt whips up against itself
stinging her wounds.
Still her prison holds firm.
She is battered, bruised, but determined
‘til the tantrum is over
and she recedes
laps the shore
submissive, demure
she feigns acceptance.
I parade her walls
marvel at her containment
grateful for the moon and the shore
protecting me.
What faith I have -
that the tide won’t suddenly go awry
her anger swelling to swallow me,
that the shore will not crumble
send me struggling into her grasp.
I walk on the edge of fragility.