for strebka
there’s a break in the night where the clouds are split through,
and numberless eyes are opened wide.
they see with their shining, they look with their light;
when they watch they can’t cover, can’t hide.
in sky their points are fixed, their figures locked in place,
but on surf[‘s f]aces they dance and diffract.
new constellations crest on every wave, mixed and moving;
reflected now, they find they can [re]act.
you show your skin and i’ll show my scars;
you be the sea, and i’ll be the stars.
over water wings come skimming, full-sheeted, straining for[e] . . .
beneath, the heaving hull has found its home.
its crewmen trade myths, fill the ship’s heart to brimming;
its touch is light as breezes while it roams.
surface winds originate with currents in the deep;
the shipmen read those patterns in their wake.
the vessel lives like liquid, never sleeps and never waits;
its touches tease the surface; deep runs ache.
you tell your truth and i’ll tell our tale;
you be the sea, and i’ll be the sail.
lightning casts electric tendrils into boiling blue,
wild winds churn waves high as skies.
the tempest transforms tranquil waters, stirs what once lay still;
long-sunken shipwrecks tremble to a_rise.
the sea accepts the whirlwind’s roar and feeds it of itself:
its substance is the seething cloudhead’s fuel.
the more the ocean offers, the more the rain restores;
their passion proves the promise of the pool.
you keep your word, and i’ll keep you warm;
you be the sea, and i’ll be the storm.
salt’s origin in stone lets it stand unimpressed by fire,
and pressure merely strengthens its resolve,
but water has its ways, and when washed into the waves it owns
its destiny: to gratefully dissolve.
in every drop the ocean wide, the tide takes on that taste;
together, salt and sea obey new laws.
by ions bound they share their weight, conduct more charge in_s[tr]ide;
such liquid later freezes, sooner thaws.
so if you take me in, i’ll take the fault;
you be the sea, and i’ll be the salt.