Parker Tettleton

The Sea Inside

If I should live to be old,
with silver in my hair
if there is any hair at all,
with someone to love,
to be loved by,
to keep me company
in my sleep, upon the plane
or subway or down the hall
as I sit typing some futile response
to myself, among no other
person should I find
(no belongings should I waste
my time searching for)
the sea inside something else.

The Living Lie

Don’t you go when you’ve gone;
in beds made of picture frames
the living lie with blank faces,
showing sunlight to the floor.

Don’t you lose what you’ve left —
the roads traveled many a time,
the haunts sitting side by side
or alone, as it may be.

Don’t you know if you’re known,
if one star sees another from afar,
if a beat of the heart is the breath
they breathe in the dark.