Submarine Acoustics

I cup my hands to catch you in all your droplets when you talk to me---

---holding too much, this molecular sea.

I plunge and explore the spaces that are vast and dark between our covalent bonds. Even shared electrons orbit infinity.

Sounding for any resonance, feeling for your pulse. I often plug the frequencies between my own piano strings.

Quieter still, I notate the ambient vocabularies: transmissions lost over latitudes of text; syllables stolen between breaths; the common moans our oceans make.

The pressure traps all the air. I hear too loudly the white noise of your silences.

Holed up in hollow diving bells I curl into myself, out for echoes of your most silent frequencies.

I tune my tempos smaller and listen close, even reverently, for something in our palms---cupped like tin cans---can relate, however distant they may be.