The English Channel

John Sobieck

Sea salt on my lips tastes like morning
before Dover
before my shaky footing matched my moral ground
and you tasted like Mercutio
dead on the beach
only a scratch
on a broken wine glass —
top deck
twenty minutes to France.
It’s already April
and Calais feels like Easter
when I drew prophecies of you
alone in a bathtub in Florence
Because I pick French love
cheap and rosy
and weeping
like the Eiffel Tower
rising over Basilique du Sacré-Cœur,
and gypsies and rotten grapes
are all that guide you home.


About the Author

John Sobieck studied creative writing at Bemidji State University and Oxford University. He has been published in Rivers Meeting, Lowestoft Chronicle, and served on the editorial boards of New Voices, and Dust and Fire. He currently serves as an editorial intern at Milkweed Editions in Minneapolis, Minnesota.