I drink until my body swells in fullness like a water- drunk leaf, And my skin is a topography of wrinkled crevices. I drink until the rivers that spill down my cheeks are no longer salty with grief, But heavy with collective heavenly whispers. I drink until flowers flourish between my water- soaked bones, And the pit in my chest is filled. I drink until I have drowned out any living piece of you that remains, Leaving behind empty walls beneath my skin. And when all that’s left is silence, The clouds wrung dry, And the wetness in my hair given back to the earth, I remain anchored in place. It is only when you are close enough, Your ear pressed against my chest, That you will hear the raging oceans left behind.