Oh, to extinguish the seas, and make the waves recede. The nights between you both and me are oceans that separate.
To meet at a nadir between continents, to traverse dryness in endless leagues, to descend the fathoms now made shining canyons, where all the former depths are rendered newly whitening plains, I would find you smiling among inert shipwrecks.
All their rusting hulls would be as iron strange oases, now in an ironic desert — the seabed under midday. A warm new noon alights their wakes. Intermittent citadels of masts again in sun would brightly tower over their resurrected figureheads; their mermaids’ opaque eyes would find we three gladdened among the once benighted bows.
There’d be an incongruity between crustaceans now slowed almost to stillness in the blanching sun, while we … we rushed to an embrace. Our shouts would break the silence of epochs.
Somewhere on a shore, this night, beached upon an altar of lunar-like nocturnal sands,
finally, face to face, dessicated starfish stare at their namesakes in heaven.