Between High and Low

i woke and wrote about an image
Invisible influence
Looking beyond,
An existence intangibly
Not ours.

Footprints fallen
In the sand.
Foam, a white gurgle,
Blisters between our toes
The sea is in heat!—delirious,
Its belly rising over land.

Birds scoop—
Beaks skimming shoreline,
Their wings an open fan
Of muted hues.
We adore,
How quick they move.

Breaking through the tide,
In silhouette, chasing after—
A dash on our heals,
Dancers in the sunlight
We are, escaping our tracks,
Keeping our bathing suits on.

Fleeing the current
With bodies directionless,
Our figures kite-like
Weaving through air,
The space between
Sea and sky.

Man is, this, Nature:
Unpredictable
Uncontrolled.
Hearing only illusions,
The poeticism of shells.

Our tongues trace
A language told in gestures
Oysters, a sort of headphone,
Over our ears—
A hiss of waves,
Begging pardon,
Slippage in speech
A fleshy muscle rolls off
Like fingertips
Caressing an organ.

Our open mouths—
The sea—
Salty, explorative
Black holes, come night!

Dive yourself deeper
Like a shooting star
Burning skin.
Stem erect,
The flower’s face
Wilts from fusion.

No matter how close
The sea,
An outsider,
We cannot know
Precisely its extent.
Unless, maybe, by
A deep acquaintance.
Not a raping—
Something sensual—
Like a ripping apart of souls.

Take the waves,
Our fleeing partners,
Keep them still
Within our eye.

Watch, and they go.
Chase!, a moment too late
So close behind,
We move through their
Last breath.

Pleading, “Tire!”
Wait wave,
Come together
In forgiveness.
Leave sea
And ME
With no agitation,
Just one long sigh.

Soles linger
Buried in the sand.