i met her beneath a harvest moon, but
very far afield

the trenches of the atlantic opened up and
she walked between, or on top

she was no colors, no sounds
and every color and the rushing roar of wholeness

she was not surprised that i came
she did not have eyes, she said

you do not have to look forward, to find the new
you can look backward just as well

center yourself in the richness of your own blood
it has a taste that you should know better than anyone else

i am the sea, the sound, the life
and none can escape me

and she walked back into the surf
leaving russet footprints to be swept out and away