we are raking, fingertips askew,
through the pile of origin. bloodletting.
ariel shell, so now,
(slow crush) the bleached trunk

we say skeleton like it is a door
once quiet in underwater visions.

why the blur, the shoreline,
the fractured dunes I fall into.
I expect the valley, where the tide blossoms
(against lightning) the balanced wind,
our human shapes already ghosts
and strangers.