Behavior to Burial

With me upon the spit seagulls fling
themselves off climbing stones.
Hushing sea: a peace. A whole: hush, you (to me). Me:
                                           hole
and if here there was a waterfull, I’d climb
into its noise. Climb into
a well with
                wings and a bird
                (again) a bird is a thing. That is true.

I will echo (back to) the sea: fold
wings. A crease is
flight. I am myselves incompletions. I give me
sky —
                     scar to sky
                     clot to cloud
                     behavior to burial —
                                 the spit is extended, but I extend.
(That was a trellis — True.) It is made
of shredded rocks. I wake for you
to see me – look, look
my way – own my body so it breaks; fold
body mine so it will fly.
I was I was and (True.) I was. A symbol
which can be a bird,
a blueberry, broken belt
(buckle. It) is the restraint of repair.
A baby from scribbled hearts.
A birth: broken-bodied,
heard.