Æþelðryþe

Maybe the island is herself.

And the eels, everywhere.

Is it even an island?  Water?

Or maybe it’s not-water.

She longs for, she desires, the shore

Following the shipwreck.

God keeps wrecking the ship, though.

And he keeps asking her to get back on the ship.

And he keeps wrecking the ship.

Does he wreck the island, too?

The sea is too deep.

The stream is safe.

The stream is contained.

The stream has borders, and I can see the other side.

These marshes don’t even merit the name of a stream.

Can I trust you in the sea?

I don’t see the other side.

I’m scared of drowning, but here we are.

Jouissance.  Or maybe only partly.

Do you love me?

If you love me, you will keep my commandments:

Get back on the boat.

But the sea is so deep--

Isn’t it?  Don’t you know?

If we are the island, can we ever drown?

I’m scared