There is that light & heavy wind to contend with
& a swimming pool blue turquoise sky rocking
all the way back to the land of the dead
w/a few thin clouds feathering out
as though they had something to say but thought better of it
like a sheet of silk torn right down the middle
if knowing what knowing might be would make any difference
the tree fern whispers out the side of its mouth like Elvis
in his decline & you set aside the machete
& plunge your wrists in the beaded foam
Seagulls calling from the jetty speak the same language as Aeschylus
though with an accent that is straight from the surf ghetto
& I made detailed drawings of your tattoos but
I can't show them to you because they are mine now
& this is how I will love you