Song of the Sea to the Shore

Unraveling velvet, wave after wave, driven

by wind, unwinding by storm, by gravity thrown—

however, heaving to reach you, to find you, I've striven

undulant, erosive, blown—

or lying flat as glass for your falling clear

down: I can't swallow you. So why

have I felt I've reached you—as two reflected stars,

surfaced, lie near—as if the sky's

close element is one in me, where starfish

cleave to stones—if you're so far?

I've touched you, I know, but my rush      

subsides; our meetings only leave desire's

fleeting trace. Every place I touch you

changes shape. Shore, lie down—

undo. I'll fill your thirsty bones with blue.

I'll flood your every cave and we'll be one.