Amphibian

Some days, when the sun fell to the sea,
I swam out to meet it, losing sight of the palm leaves
on the shore behind me, and I,
alone, with the ocean to the horizon
in every direction, and oscillating with the waves,
grounded only by the sun in the west.

Some days, when the sun fell to the sea
I swam out to meet it,
but before it touched the horizon
it dissolved into the haze.

Some nights I paced on the beach,
barefoot, with the waves
washing against my ankles,
rolling my jeans up higher,
as the tide came in
and still with wet denim against my leg.

I looked out to the sparkling drops of moonlight on the water,
threw questions out to whatever powers
might be hiding in the face of the moon,
and each wave crashing on the shore,
carried back to me the same old answer:
death, death, death.