& i am warm, warm, giving, giving, always feeding
into someone else. every boy i’ve loved was a body
better than me at the ebb; they made me runnel,
dirty trickle. no wonder i am desperate
to erode. on monday i dip into the hollow cave
of a stranger, shallow pools in the dark
& his overzealous tongue lapping
like rock-shore waves. how long will it take
to quit you again? you ocean, you swallowing, you
take me in your vast blue mouth & spit me out
as salt, & i will not complain. twilight refracts
in my lungs, little molecules of you pitch & linger
in my widening rill. once, i learned all rivers
hold parts of each other: smoothed pebble, fish scale,
the extra tooth behind your top row—oyster-jagged
when i run myself over it. let this mean
what we carry we do not easily leave. let me be
mulled-green at your shoreward
bend. let some measure of you settle
with me on the grit-fallen bank.
