Not all goodbyes are tragic unless they begin
for someone else & this one did & I can't stop
carrying you under my coastal grooves
where there's a hundred years
larval for life, forever newt-
like & never
to arise the canals
& floating gardens.
Go on & feed
[finite them ] to kelp & coral reefs.
Never again to such perfect day
security would I promise our tartare
lives. Or would I try to close such eyes
that bury me
alive in sea anemones growing toward
our feet & never where the sun
do we bite off each other's limbs
& return in angles un-right
when our ancestors said no
& went back in,
supercluster that would
drown the universe.
We are the layer under human skin.
We are swimming toward each other
under their dead skin
like a thousand holy grails
white cells & terrain
graces. My darling laurel
there is only you
a sad plastic fish bowl tower
with melting stone