Low among the gulls this time it was not you who found me heedless the reeds
bronze smell of men who started drinking early there are children to put to bed

there are buzzards and pipers a proud arch of cormorants by turns sleek diving or
spread ceremonious stilled feathers oiled and dripping ecstatic like preachers we

figured this was just how the bay smelled but no through birds and other bodies I see
you kiss a man I know on the cheek this time it was not you there is some leviathan

rotting out beyond the shoal stirring a dead current rising against its tail you don’t see
me it was not you there is someone in the water next to us tugging at our hand there is

a crab arming out of reach and its sister mangled and split washing out only by inches
its underbelly your face a still moon hanging over every other pinned to it inscrutable

the salt air takes its time and the sun takes or gives as she chooses still we have to ask
was it not you the sun sets or is setting it is hard to choose we must ask where do we

stand there is a child in my arms sleeping holding a conch and the legs of what lives
in it we shoulder our way past the crab setting birds into the air if not you then your

eyes if not you then the moon this time is it you and I am asking