Emogene Cataldo

1
crack open to mend 
the seams, shed this skin 
and slither
on

lose your way and find
a path hungry for erasure 

the moon, 
she knows to hide,
to summon the tide licking 
at your feet

and somehow

you rebuild after every storm,
reassemble this version
and the next

when the tide contracts
pressing the sands clean

again

repeat

2
perhaps 

high on 
hope or ignorance or both

the ancients knew this: that
life is made in the mending,

in the expectation
of collapse.