Tell me about your sea. Bless me with all
that makes the tide flow sweet out of your hips.
I know what the seawall knows, what the wall
wants but can’t have. If a single stone slips
out of place the sea will gush in, drowning
this dry mouth of land. And, unlike the wall,
I am not afraid to drown, swallowing
all you can offer. I’ll swallow it all,
gag it down, wanting one more little death.
Let me hear the whale song humming deeply
inside your chest, sleep in the kelp forest
between your thighs. Divers must hold their breath
going down, but I’ll let your undersea
kingdom flood me. I’ll let my seawall burst.