vivo sin vivir en mí,
y tan alta vida espero,
que muero porque no muero. —Santa Teresa de Jesús
reach is when
what’s desired is pushed away.
the discernable curl
of shore goes smooth. calm
dissolved like bagged ice
on asphalt in the summer. who
can tell the sea from night at night.
determination with its silky
voice said swim, until there’s no
-thing to remind you of you anymore.
so eyes go scan for focal
shape of human form on land
& see, i’ve subsided
into sea? like Goya’s dog my waist
now lulled by roiling surf? i sink &
find that love is just a pact with death!
everyday awake,
& gesso’s bound the night with day.