for e m
after many days adrift on the shifting ocean of my mind,
sun and moon beating careless down on my bare head,
i washed, salt-parched, to shore, and for a minute
gave over to thanks for that at least, before
opening lids on what i'd landed on:
a white beach in the shadow of a cliff
and v'd into its stone a grotto
where fresh water seemed to trickle
for there were green things all come up inside,
the ground green-packed, and lichenous walls
breathing sweet and wet. stumbling i crossed
from white to green, finding the space
larger than what i'd thought--a small world
resting in the crook of the stone.
i went further in, treading softly on moss
spangled with tiny star-white flowers, ferns
brushing my upper thighs, vines my shoulderblades,
and saw a pool there, reflecting sky, at which i knelt
to taste.
it was fresh and clear, saltless, rock-sweet.
my thirst had been bitter--i felt
every cell expand, grow sleek with water--i drank
and drank, almost laughing, wet along
every line of parched gums, every crevice of teeth,
against tongue and within throat and all through me.
afterward, crouching back, i looked up
and found the goddess of the place:
a statue, made from white marble, yes, but streaked
every lovely color--gray and blue, and at its base
the gray-green barklike lichens bloomed.
its lines slender and pure, the figure of a woman.
i do not know how to give her thanks, so
for days i have been just staring at her, just being near.
but the stars at night are giant and clear, here;
wrapped in their shadows, with my back to the cliff,
and the echoing waves sounding far far away,
i am capable
of rest.