Warm Water
It’s like the ocean. Your affection.
Pulls back, pulls the thin string
Which connects us ancestrally.
I’m thinking lately
About the ends of things. The hard point
Of a shoelace. Often I feel
On the edge of the edge:
Part silken lady, part sick raccoon.
I’ll never exhaust
The daily raveling. I’ve crossed
Oceans before, back and forth,
But never without
A dozen hatboxes. This time I leave
Breadcrumbs. I don’t want
To get lost in it.
Amelia Akiko Frank is an artist and arts educator based in Chicago, currently interested in edges and boundaries. She has been published in Sliced Bread Magazine and Grey City.
See more of her work in 10.1