Maria Barnes

Take Care of Yourself

A mangled stomach of the ocean?
No, your chest split open on a stainless steel table
between two wounds of darkness 
in my house.
I swallow your mucus, the clots of salty blood,
and think about a tempestuous sky 
above the ocean you dreamt about last night.
Tonight I’m dreaming about it, too,
with my hands deep in your open chest.