after Paul Violi
Watch the sea and sky move together
Like memory and imagination—
But never watch them move apart.
That rendering is too difficult to bear,
Even for the most stoic among us,
Who practice in front of mirrors
The invisible act of painlessness.
“Never,” cry the gulls of desire.
“Again,” says somebody on the beach.
Which way is it the white sail moves
On the horizon? Toward salt or sand.
Human breath condenses in the cold,
Indelible a moment before rising
On the mystery of the water and the wind.