Rip Current

Bobbing in the sea at last:
The warm sun on my skin, all I hoped for.
Knots from long, cold months, alone;
Resolving in your company.

The salt chafes, I forgot to grease.
I look back and the tide
Has taken our start.
While the rocks we set out for
Loom a way off.

I smile despite my non-arrival—
Pulled here in the rip.
How lightly I thought
To swim back on course,
When it was done with us.

Now you press on and I remain;
Unwilling to match your pace.
As I shut my eyes, the sun
Quickens my pulse to a torrent
That shreds neat hypotheticals.

My perspective narrows, in alarm,
To a single sandbank; breached
By silver-eddying streams.
Xanthos and Barapole
Run as one confusion.

My breath flags to witness
Such velocity.
Suddenly, thirty yards to shore
Seems too far.

Somaiah Kambiranda is a gardener.

Featured image: Marek Piwnicki/Unsplash