for SBThis is the most you’ve ever beena child. Once there was sand,thick saltwater paste on legscapable of anything; then, lateryour body inside a lanternwaiting for claps of resurrection—what happens is yellow, an armfulof swords pressed into your embracebut no blood, only sprinting, bladeslike chopsticks then sheathedin your throat & this is also hungera goblet of dirt & flowers.But think of that beach again. You know the one,you’ve been there so many times. Thinkof pomegranates instead of rocks & a sea monster(any kind you’d like) who will love youbetter than a lighthouse, love your toesresting in its muddy grey sandas the water breathes with endless indecisionthe in & out of tongue(after all just another muscle)I would strip every branch clean, handswrapped like a hilt, buzzed fingers learningthe small fur of a bee, just asking for sting,honey sugared between bricks.Are you in the snow right now, this very second?Somewhere there’s a city of seals &somewhere I am slipping insideanother’s heavy rubber skin, changingmy feet, swallowing gulps of well-waterthat taste like you. Like my eyesweighed down with penniesfrom the year I was born, & a yearthat hasn’t happened yet.