A Poem by Ryan Dodge

Sea Salt Fresh

The Pacific crashes down,
unrelenting in her
awe-inspiring rage.
Wearing down the edges
of a dried out land;
a people dying of thirst,
with abundance bashing
against the back door.

Cries of plenty
forced from throats
greased only with spit;
flit past lips so cracked
they're bleeding.
Crusty human shells
scattered on the shore.
Empty and dry within.

Where can I go
if land nor sea can quench
my thirst.
Surrounded by sustenance
but an alien kind
incompatible with
my body.

I stand in the sand
wishing I could walk on the surface in faith.
Knowing I'll sink,
a ball of doubt
on the end
of a chain,
dragging me
down,
down,
deeper,
deeper,
into the depths.

So here I'll wait
the waves lapping
at my feet
slowly taking me
bit by bit
my ankles, my knees,
my hips, my chest,
my neck,

the taste
of salt on my lips
as I close my eyes
and sink
into the numbness.

Ryan Dodge is a senior at Azusa Pacific University in Southern California.  He is an unpublished writer who enjoys writing poetry and fiction, specifically science fiction.