The silver tide calls to me:
my foot glides into the river.

My blood runs
blue with wanting–union of two
long-lost lovers.

Silken water slips
between my softened bones,
salt bleaches me clean.

My hair unravels in thin ribbons,
black, the flat notes of a piano,
interlaced with the sea.

I swallow instinctively. I find
I cannot breathe I slip and grasp
for the world but my body protests, crawling

frictionless, water molding to the hollow
of my neck. I force my fingers through the cold wet
towards the surface. I am frail, my skin: