THE WRONG TIDE

Sometimes Life arrives on the wrong tide
and you flail with gibbon moons, choking on icebergs
that speak fluent ‘You ‘… sometimes, the bombs
are elaborate and carpet bomb your John Wayne
with all the Jane Eyre, swept out of the room
as you inhale the fecundity
of your wayward photons
on any dark night
you could poem
about

until gone.