This poem is the threading together of several small poems that all seemed to lead in the same direction.
Life throbs in ocean currents,
the rhythmic beat of rain in the rushes,
the booming song of the whale
and the tremulous heartbeat of a bird.
It coils and twists,
intricate as a snail shell,
filled with sand and diamonds and stars,
a capharnaum of treasures
and barbed ambiguities,
of things that drive us apart,
roses plucked from the tree,
a caged bird weeping,
contrary winds filling unruly sails,
and things that hold us together,
threads of sunlight,
tangles of roses,
strings that net the stars,
and the merest touch of your hand.
In the coiled nacre of our shell,
where night is bright as pearl
and day dim and cool as the ocean,
where stars fall and fish leap in the sun,
there is no end to me,
no beginning to you.
in the night,
to the beat of a double pulse,
I feel my thoughts slipping,
sand through fingers,
from me to you,