First, are you blue?
Not blue as in sad, though sadness
will certainly come in useful.

Next, are you female?
Like the moon, the sea
is always female.
Except in Japan.

Can you weep for a dead child
as you rip their skin to shreds,
taking the tiniest wounds,
unraveling them for miles?
Can you demand keepsakes
then spit them out? Can you taunt,
tease, murder and love sailors,
and yet be the only thing they are
loyal to? Have you deceptive
currents, eddies and undertow—
can you allow a boat, six inches
from another, to overtake with ease?

How important is salt to you?
Core of your being, or nice on tomatoes?
Do you eat tomatoes?
Know how to inspire?
Can you be so still, so powerful,
that generations of artists will weep,
thinking of what their marriages
could have been? Are you infinite?
Arrogant? The world’s oldest child?

Lastly, and this one is important:
Are you wet? 


Jennifer A. McGowan

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