The Sea Thinks Beyond Itself

slowskulled               & drowsy,
this epitaph’s            the one that’s carved
over                 & over again :
here a blowsy            mallet & chisel
to chisel
                          on the rock this tide’s
overswept                   in looking
too close         for tidings for          how to remain
unwaving                     unwavering
the shore                                  it’s always
                                                    the depths
itself                 tense & feathering &
not about itself                      & counting
the time           it takes to linger
where it’s not
wanted                          here waking it’s
the same          rock
that’s waiting               to be
                            to have           one more
drink to quench
                                          this ebony                shore —
fight :
                                          tide                             throat