pick shells as the sea
walks its body. hold it light;
the milky way's flute.
put a mouth on the distant
susurrus. night leaves shells in
the trough. hear ocean's
lap ashore on the creak &
groan of drowning. hold
away the lamp post stranger's
touch; enter a room & be
stranger than any
mirror. something blinks close on
the sky sea's forehead
& shakes. drink water, taste salt
as the throat's bottom swallows
& is a flood, drunk
in a city that doesn't
know, dragging anchors
of dead ships & ghosts with mud
heels. there's no escape. open
a window & now,
an open window burns on
the stake. the condemned's fever
eats water. when recovered,
return the shore & sit as
a dead palm tree boy
listens—for the other sea
in the other place,
where the milky way's flute sings.
On the other side of town,
a flood rises on
its haunches, another inch
near the bed's headrest.
a prisoner tosses stone
ripples & dreams of burning.
