Crowd Control

Can water damage get into the bones?

Soak through, harden tears to thrones

The skill of swimming is to sink

Sideways with salt in the blink

Get less excited about shells than phones

Handfuls of ocean, whiffs of life, words’ whetstones

Four heartbeats and a scent to drink,

Counting details like ices that clink

Words are drops, waters, clones

Everyone tries movies or ice cream cones

Ignore the math walls. It gets hard to think

The edge of a smile is a brink

It’s safer to joke about websites and groans

There’s water damage in a culture of moans

Fenced expectations are chain and link

This isn’t an orchestra of pink

You can hear a pin drop, I could forget about thrones

We are electric, we invented phones

Everyone assumes it’s the heart at the brink

But it’s the spread of frost, the unparted whole, the link