I need to explain: 
I once watched 
sea moss flower 
on the skin 

of a drowned sailor 
and within hours 
swell to the size 
of a human finger. 

I pulled his body  
from waves so white 
I could have carved 
them from wax, 

soft as bees. 
He looked like a candle 
without a flame—
he looked like fire 

without ash.
The whites of his eyes
were black with flies— 
Let there be light.

I need to explain: 
Since men first spoke
of gravity, it’s slowly 
pushed our bones 

deeper into the soil. 
Since men first spoke 
of lightning, the sky’s 
become an archer.

There is a faith beyond 
prayer: my enemy 
spoke of a bird asleep
on his throat before 

opening his mouth
to that white rush 
of waves, believing 
he would be turned 

into a tree by his grief. 
Down dropped his roots.
A hundred birds fell
into his branches.