Salt,

When the tide comes in.

My eyes are clear

And the grains of sand are mirrors

Reflecting one another

For miles. Beyond the horizon

I know nothing waits

And only becomes. Piers

Stand crumbling,

Tickmarks that circle the shore.

I can count the number of times

I’ve been here. My hands, my words,

Adding things up

In my head, machinery

Making sense

Away from perpetuity. Here,

I look, prize

The pre-nominal, preternatural.

Cry for the unknowable barrier

Between foam and depths

And its unyielding being.

Sonorous and fragrant,

I am placed,

Enveloped,

Without recall or will. My body

Sees, feels, waits for the miraculous

Heartbeat,

To be my heartbeat, to take me in time,

To lay claim

To my eyes and

To make my sight salt.