bound, in a glass box,
in eight feet of water,
your hair fans.

did you forget the key
in your pocket?

*

the whale may have been, is
a symptom of the sea you lost.

for a day, into night
without a ship
you floated on the coffin
of the body of your friend—

I conceded you above mind, then.

*

in John Singleton Copley’s painting of the men in the boat
and the shark under

you’re the Whistler nocturne that won’t be painted for another century
but will be better loved.

*

when a thought is set out undone
in a small boat on a green sea
and singing happens
you’re a distant mountain,

waiting.

*

I don’t believe in the goodness
of what moves you.

*

take out the key. swallow it.