From the sand cliffs where the math
confronting us takes on the blue
of distance, you can watch for days
and not know what is rolling in.
Something has to be done—here is
a blackberry if you need—we
have seen so long between the tides
all of us should at least be
dry before the kelp heaves and the
sharp fins veer behind the wave. It’s
everyone I want to lift,
and it’s my feet that are slipping.