I want to lose my breath
in you, my delicate
pacific, then come up for air
slowly, speckled with the salt and seafoam
of your skin. i am a giant
jellyfish, Medusa, all gnawed
snake-tentacles and ricochet
eyes and pinkish muscle hoarse
with sand, here to brand your
rocks with my own waves. perhaps i will see
myself inside you, mirror, mirror, be
turned into your salt crystals
by my own gaze. we are
at once an ocean and a submarine, unseen
beneath the radiance of waves, sheets, each other’s desert
island, raft, shaft in air and coral
reef to slip through into the tsunami silence
we have scattered out of song and stillness.

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