The Telemachean by derek lessard

if you could only
tweek the pitch
of your voice
so it was tuned
in a different key,
we would be
where land
reaches out
an arm
to touch
the sea-
where this awaits,
unfolding.
it's strange
to be seen
by another,
to see them see me,
becoming this-
becoming part of me,
a complete stranger
who hurts my feelings.
handholds meet, at land-
underwater parting
walks into suicides
of waves, together-
in carriage of
pallbearing cargo,
embargo en route
to Maltese quays,
trapped inside
quotations-
bodybound.