Pacifica part 1 (for Ania Jany)

Vellus hairs lay flat, matted fields are sparse and bowed away.

Foundation caked like tears.

and almost a flood.

The moment that you almost cry, the anti-podal moon spins into the near horizon

and pulls in saline tides.

“You know, the waves are storms off shore, not gravity”’

But yeah, you did, and I recant this daydream-memory where every strand flutters

and I, hold your waist.

“It’s just a phantom, the sun set,

made by curvatures in the air stream.

And your futures not in the ending it’s in the rise; it’s to the east.” I think you said.

We random walked these sands and never met, just gazed,

out west

to sea,

but only caught shore and scuttled waves tugged at your feet

my soles.

I watched the rheum

build up in the corner and glitter back with each half saunter.

“We’re trapped” I said

“In cyclones, and sometimes sail tandem”

“and sometimes sail past, pushed by torrents out at churning water”

and sometimes bays are tidal pools from bowsprit cliffs

I stayed and watched the jet black ocean melt into the sea.

You saved a life

you were an anchor threading back

mending lost and washed up creatures, just like me.