With the coming and going of green tides

Fathomless seas where dreamers pause, awestruck

by chaos

Holding you I have forgone the pattern -

golden threaded stories,

my tentative drawings in the sand

To understand you

Patiently waiting for a sign to

break the crimson glass and set

blackbirds free upon the wind

To find yourself in the middle

of a sigh,

an outbirst of outreaching echoes

Blinking salt.

Unlocked, the copper-cage sits

tiny and bone-brittle against the ivory island

Inside it captures fragile feathers, urchin-breath,

cloudbursts and star-words,

your melodies, my moonbeams (yes)

and mermaid-hair and sea-shells

and you cannot hear the ocean

and I'm sorry