mainland.
by cori amato hartwig
i-iii. longing parts i—iii
iv. lost at sea
v. sea glass
“we are like islands in the sea, separate on the surface but connected in the deep.”
–william james
longing
i wish i were more like the grass, flexible and resilient,
but i am far less green and much more fragile
—who are you
—i am a flower on fire, i say
longing part ii
your silhouette against the ocean is a mark against you, as no one can be the ocean. her power slips between my fingers. her tides are mathematical and mystical and magical, yet you look at me instead. i am none of those things.
i want to be low-tide. i want you to wade in.
longing part iii
i am not interested in lovers that proclaim themselves loudly on rooftops or amongst a crowd or during people’s parties or on valentine’s day or on new year’s eve
i want a love that caresses my face on a tuesday afternoon or the dullest wednesday or even my ugliest thursday and doesn’t mind my cold feet and swears over midnight silence that he likes my nose and talks about introducing me to his mother and dances with me in our own private spectacle over glasses of wine and finds it funny when i burn the toast at breakfast and reads next to me while i fall asleep and always
stays awake
lost at sea
—i have nothing to confess. do you?
a resounding cry for homeland, a
newborn mother i have never known, an
umbilical anchor i’ve searched to find
i have drowned my own head under
the meniscus of ancestral reckoning but
i will not poison the land with my grief.
all of our oceans are connected
why do we name them?
the sea rises and the sky falls
where do i begin?
the earth plummets straight down, only marking its history in
bands that strangle its own identity as it
looks down on its rising fate
if i keep walking the land would sharply leave my soles so i
stand and oscillate and dizzy myself until i
fall like the edges of the
cliffs
i jump and call it a
bluff
sea glass
—am i haunting you or are you haunting me?
the echoes and shards of
loss
do not concern me
i cannot be concerned at all
find me tumbled on the edge
i dove in at midnight
the rain heavy with
a hand around my neck
weathered by nothing short of a storm
don’t you wish you were the water
cori amato hartwig is a writer, musician, comedian, and mental health activist. cori is also known as @manicpixiememequeen on instagram. she is a lover of the color yellow and dramatic faux fur coats. she is known to make lists in her sleep, take astrology very seriously, and overshare about her life through her art and memes. find more about cori on her website and blog, coriamatohartwig.com.
instagram: @cori_amato
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