The Note in the Bottles

written for a spring '06 poetry class.
Inspired by Craig Thompson’s Goodbye Chunky Rice










The Note in the Bottles


I miss you
I miss you
I miss you
Until I think of something else to write,
I miss you
I’ll keep writing these notes
And searching for bottles to put them in
I miss you
I’ll keep walking to the shore and wading
through the sand
to stand with cold water curling
around my ankles, my knees,
I miss you
sucking the breath away at my stomach
cold

I miss you

With every note
in every bottle hurled into the waves,
I miss you

In every color crayon I have
I miss you
Written out in every way
that I can’t say it
I miss you
I hope
That perhaps the same wave
that tugs the breath from my chest
Is pushing the bottles up against
The hull of your ship.
I hope
That their nervous clinking
clustered in the water, holding notes
is enough
to notice.
I miss you
Until I think of something else to say –

I won’t say that I’ll swim out to you or
hurl bottles until
my arms erode
I won’t say I’ll sink into the sand,
waiting,
I won’t survive that way.

I cannot quite sound out
the song
that Orpheus played alone.
If I knew the tune,
I’d teach a seagull
To drop it like a fish,
And shining, flapping, silver
fading notes
Might catch your ear
Before you throw it back

I miss you
I hope
But I think I may run out of bottles.
I may run out of crayons
I may run out of dumpsters to dig through
Searching for some way to tell you
I miss you
Until the sea is flooded with bottles
And there is no more space for water
I miss you